


a rhapsody for you and me

by Nagiru



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (also some mentions of past Doctor/River), (because It's Complicated), (plus some mentions of past companions), (she regenerates though), (sorry about anything wrong is what I'm saying), Eventual Romance, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Missy (Doctor Who) Lives, Not Beta Read, Other, Post-Season/Series 11, Romance, The Doctor dances (and it's not the episode), but also an Established Relationship, but it's my own and I don't know whether I write in Am Eng or Brit Eng, characters might be slightly OOC, might be somewhat considered a slow burn, or a mild simmer at least, some implied sex at some points, some light whump, there's some attempt at British Picking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-06-26 02:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 72,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagiru/pseuds/Nagiru
Summary: The Doctor knew she was The Last Time Lord once again (though Gallifrey still stood), but, for reasons she could not admit to, she still held on to the song in her mind, the four-beat drumming song. Shame her best friend died on that Mondasian Ship, right?





	1. thoughts devour (thoughts of you consume)

**Author's Note:**

> First things first _(I’ma say all the words inside my head)_... this is a Thoschei (Theta/Koschei, Doctor/Master, Doctor/Missy…) story, in case you haven't noticed. And it's mainly 13/Missy (regenerated Missy, but fem!Master all the same), so, fem slash.  
> Moving on! On its entirety, the story is mostly happy-ish, as I started it with the intent of writing fluff; let’s be honest, though: I don’t write fluff. So, it’s happy, but it also has some plot which, in this case, presents itself as the Doctor and Missy trying to fit together again. Cue in some angst and whump and arguments that should have been had long ago.  
> The story also began with the idea of being a “30 Day OTP Challenge” I found, but then I… changed so much of the original prompt it doesn’t even resemble it anymore. The one thing it does keep is that, well, it has 30 chapters. — I think it’s also at this point I should say this story is COMPLETE, only pending some last-minute reading and edition? Yes, so. It has 30 chapters and more or less 70k words. (70 thousand words. It’s a record, I say. And I wrote it in an astounding _month and 4 days_!)
> 
> So, yeah, I intend on posting two chapters a week: Tues and Sat, every week. Might be a bit of a delay once or twice, since I’m editing it all on my own and the story is too freaking huge and I’m gonna have a friend staying over next week, but, I’m trying to prepare for that!
> 
> Last general notes (that I can remember)… the story title and each chapter’s title comes from a song. Well, songs. Songs I listened to while writing this story, honestly. So, if you’re interested, search them out. The story title comes from “Symphony” by Clean Bandit ft. Zara Larsson.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** as always, Doctor Who and characters do not belong to me (I think there's, like, _one_ OC in this story?). Neither do all the songs I mention in the story - one way or another.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old photos are found, and old memories with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit angsty, though not much. It has some nostalgic touch, some reminiscing about Amy and Rory (‘cuz I love them), and some… awkward moments at the very end of the chapter.
> 
> (Chapter was named after “War of Hearts” by Ruelle.)

**Chapter 1**

The Doctor had been busy _not_ -napping just a minute ago, and felt completely entitled to the small yelp and _not quite_ floundering she indulged in when, out of _nowhere_ , Ryan crept up on her and asked her…

Asked her _what_?

“I didn’t get that,” she groaned from the ground, where she _might_ have fallen after her quite _gracious_ moment of… of _defending herself_. After a moment of deliberation, she also narrowed her eyes at the boy, trying to remember whether dignity demanded her to be angry at a situation like this.

“Sorry, Doc,” he murmured, ducking his head with a smattering of colour high on his cheekbones. “Should I… uh… get something, or…?”

She held still for a second, and decided her dignity was quite satisfied, thank you very much. She grinned, huffing lightly as she heaved herself up; he _could_ have offered her a hand, she supposed, but. Not quite necessary, either, anyway.

“Nah, don’t worry. You took me by surprise, that’s all.” She waved him off, patting herself distractedly as she peered around him for a moment, before snapping her eyes back to his face. “Did you need something?”

There was a pause, and she was curious to observe how Ryan scratched at his neck, turning his head to stare at the door that opened up to the interior of the TARDIS, instead of looking at her.

“We, uh, me and Yaz, I mean, we… we were looking — and, we found a room? It just opened, and you said we could enter anything that opened to us, and, uh, sorry? Uh, yeah, but, we were in this room… I think it might be a library? Though, there’s a _pool_ in it, so I’m not sure? and Yaz found… something. And asked me to get you?”

She hummed, curious, and tilted her head slightly, feeling the TARDIS brushing up against her, brilliant and amused. She knew the room, of course; the library with a pool was one of her favourites. What Yaz could have found there, though?

The answer came to her with a quiet flash of taped cardboard, and she laughed, delighted. “Oh, I see,” she murmured, patting the TARDIS console cheerfully as she stepped forth to stand by Ryan’s side. “Don’t you worry about it, Ryan. If the TARDIS didn’t think you trustworthy with it, it would never have appeared.”

Ryan had the frown of someone who had _absolutely no idea_ what she was talking about, and the Doctor smiled chirpily, tapping him on the shoulder to call his attention. He stared at her for a moment — still completely lost, clearly, mouth a little open and everything —, but nodded obediently, following her silently as she pushed along.

For one short moment, it looked like he’d like to say something, or step forward to guide her to the room he mentioned — but, she walked past him with her chin held high, a grin on her face, and he fell into step quickly, not a peep to be heard. It was only as they neared a door, one the Doctor knew perfectly well should _not_ lead them into the library in question, that he protested, stepping forward with a small stumble.

“That’s… not…”

She grinned at him, pushing the doorknob down and the door wide open to the familiar sight of rows and rows of bookshelves, filled to the brim and smelling of dust and time and so many _stars_ they positively _glowed_ (sometimes, even literally). And, in the middle of it all, if she turned her head just so, she could glimpse Yaz, braids tossed over her shoulders, and sitting cosily by the unlit fireplace.

“Yes?” She asked teasingly, looking back at Ryan with a small turn of her head.

He seemed to be lost for words, fumbling around the air with a hand that at last fell restless to his side, a frown deep on his brow. “But…”

“The sooner you accept the TARDIS is alive, Ryan,” she whispered as if it were a secret, trying not to laugh at his face and knowing she was failing. “The easier it will be for you.”

She patted him on the shoulder yet again, and stepped forward, into the room that smelled of comfort and _home_ , a warm blanket falling hazily over her mind.

She made her way carefully between the shelves, glancing reflexively at some of her favourite books — glimmering softly under her senses like little beacons, many of them holding on to smells she still longed to find once again. As she made her turn around the first couple of bookshelves, it was easy to see Yaz, who looked much more relaxed than Ryan, with her sneakers on the ground and her feet tucked beneath her body.

“Hey, Yaz!” The Doctor called pre-emptively, trying not to startle her too much. Still, she could see Yaz flinch slightly, head snapping up so abruptly in a way that _must_ have hurt. “Sorry,” she added, as an afterthought.

Yaz, bless her, just shrugged, patting the free cushion by her side. “Nah. Should’ve been expecting you; I _did_ ask Ryan to get you, after all.”

The Doctor offered her a slight smile, taking the offered seat. Here, she could see the cardboard box resting innocuously on the table before the couch, and the album in Yaz’s hands.

“So. You found the photos.” She commented, lying back against the couch’s back rest. She took one quick glance at the album in Yaz’s hands, and felt her chest unclench a little. “Anything interesting yet?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I don’t know any of these people. I guess… I was trying to find you?” Yaz admitted with a slight blush on her face, shoulders rising protectively around her neck. “Sorry. Should probably have asked first.”

“Said so,” added Ryan, plopping down on Yaz’s other side and looking down at the book in her hands with an open expression. “And apologized, too.”

The Doctor chuckled, leaning over Yaz’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the contents of the book. “Don’t worry. The TARDIS tends to keep anything untoward hidden from view. If you managed to find it, it’s nothing too bad.”

She could barely hear Ryan mouthing the words after her, and hid a small smirk, focusing on the photos, instead. Most had been taken with an Earth’s camera, which, actually, made sense, since this was… she took another glimpse of the cover… one of the albums she had kept back when she was Chin-boy, and Amy had _loved_ taking photos of _everything_.

( _A small little family album,_ she remembered Amy telling her, a smile on her face. She’d loved it _so much_. Damn it.)

“So. What do you wanna know?” She prompted, resting her chin on Yaz’s shoulder.

Beneath her, she felt the shudder of a deep breath, and then Yaz finally allowed the album to rest on her lap, once again. “Well… uh… who are these people? If that’s okay.”

She hummed, and dutifully pointed to one of the pictures. “That’s Amy.” She explained; it was a particularly good picture, too, with Amy laughing broadly on a beach in some planet with golden water (possibly Eteria? But, she didn’t think she’d ever led Amy to Eteria, so, maybe not), clad in winter clothes because he had _not_ been aiming for a beach, oops. “She was my best friend, too. Amelia Pond. Beautiful girl. Met her when she was five. Most orange hair I ever seen. Even Van Gogh pointed that out!”

Ryan snorted. “And why was she wearing a coat in a beach? It _is_ a beach, right?”

“Well, I’ll let you know that there are many _cold_ beaches, okay!” She protested quickly, though she felt a smile creeping up on her lips. “I mean, look at England!”

“Uh-huh. But those other people on the picture are all wearing bath suits.” He added, teasingly.

She grinned broadly, then. “Yes, well. I meant to take her to skate on the frozen seas of Ghal-gul-a. The TARDIS disagreed.”

If she focused just right, she could still remember the laughter that still rang in the picture, too. Amy’s open amusement at being taken to a beach right when she had _finally_ stopped asking him to take her “somewhere warm”.

She’d never been too angry at him for getting his destinations wrong.

She smiled fondly, and tried to focus back on the present tense — she wasn’t there with Amy and Rory anymore. She wasn’t a man anymore. She was… she was here, in the TARDIS, with Yaz and Ryan.

She focused back right on time to see Yaz pointing out to the other picture, where Rory could be seen, helping Amy stand after she stumbled over a particularly big shell. “And this one?”

“That’s Rory. Amy’s husband.” She answered, smile never fading from her voice even as an ache panged in her chest. “He insisted he was called Rory _Williams_ , but everyone knew he was a Pond. He was _Amy’s_ , after all, and no one would ever have Amy.”

“That doesn’t even make _sense_!” Ryan exclaimed, but there was laugh in his voice, and the Doctor let it go easily — and, honestly, she guessed it really _didn’t_ make sense, said like that, but then, wasn’t that part of her intention, as well?

For the next while, they sat there, together. Yaz passed the pages slowly, pointing out at vague appearances of people in different pictures, and she’d answer. There were many pictures of Amy and Rory, mostly, and after a while they started asking her about the trips that had been pictured, since the other people weren’t the focus on the photos.

Then, they stumbled upon a picture of _him_.

“Huh. Who’s this?” Ryan piped up, right when the Doctor hoped they’d pass right through.

Hearing the question, Yaz stopped short, fingers just on the verge of turning the page, and focused on where Ryan was pointing.

He had been trying not to be seen on the picture (there used to be _more_ , she supposed, but then he had tried to erase all of his existence, and…), and mostly of what was visible was his tweed jacket and bowtie, but enough of his face had appeared for them to see the chin and the floppy hair.

“He’s been in a couple other pictures, always on the background. I didn’t _notice_ , at first, but…” Ryan muttered, focusing even more on the image.

“Now that you mention it, it’s true.” Yaz agreed, nodding slowly. She turned a page back, and, true enough, there he was, on the very back of a photo of Amy and Rory’s wedding, dancing his rather… _unfortunate_ rendition of The Giraffe Dance. “Nicely observed, Ryan!”

Ryan beamed at them, and turned expectant to the Doctor.

She supposed it was only fair; they’d seen him, after all. They’d seen _her_.

“That’s…” She grimaced, licked her lips, and turned a couple pages, trying to find the one picture… the one she _knew_ should be here, somewhere… _ah_. She showed the photo to them; him, smiling fondly at Amy as she slept by her old TARDIS’s console, a stray red heel fallen to her side from their latest adventures. She’d hidden the photo, back when… back when she’d first seen it… but it was a simple use of perception filter, and it was easy to break through it, now. “That’s me.”

“ _Huh?_ ”

“Didn’t you say you used to be a white-haired Scotsman?” Yaz asked confusedly.

She nodded. “Yes. Before I became a woman.” She tapped the picture again, where Chinny could be seen perfectly clear, terrible choice in clothes and all. “This was _before_ the Scotsman.”

A slow, _slow_ moment followed that, before Ryan murmured, confusedly, “Oooo-kay…”

She snorted, and leaned back, away from Yaz and the album, resting against the side of the couch, instead. She closed her eyes, and listened quietly to her doubled heartsbeat. “I told you, I had many faces, and I never was a woman, before.”

_Not in a way they would understand, at least_ , she added to herself with a quiet snort.

“Before I was Chinny,” she gestured in the vague direction of Yaz, though she wasn’t even sure they were looking at her. “I used to wear suits. Not as bad a choice of garments, I suppose, but the _hair_. And the shoes. But the _hair_.” She shuddered, slightly. “I used to spend so _long_ on that hair…” she muttered to herself, regretting every second of it, as she usually did whenever she regenerated.

“Oh, did you look a bit like a cockatoo?” Yaz asked with the brilliance of understanding that could only mean one thing.

_Which_ picture had she seen?!

She opened her eyes at once, staring at the back of Yaz’s head with care. “Yes…” she agreed, hesitantly. “Why…?”

“There are a couple photos of you, in the start of the album. Here, wait…”

She managed to nudge herself back up, watching intently as Yaz leafed the album all the way back to the very first page of it, and then froze.

She did _not_ like that reaction.

“What is it?” She asked, trying to convince herself it was nothing. Possibly just trying not to laugh. She had been _ridiculous_ back then. Surely, that was all.

But, no, Yaz was frowning and worrying her lower lip, and those weren’t signs of her _withholding her_ _laughter_. Those were signs of _concern_.

She leaned forwards, resting a hand on Yaz’s shoulder for balance as she tried to get a glimpse of what had made her friend so preoccupied.

“Oh.”

“This… was not here, before.” Yaz said, voice carefully neutral as she pushed the book onto the Doctor’s lap.

She looked down, touching the offending photo with a single finger, and could feel the small buzz of a perception filter under her touch. It seemed that, when she neutralized the filter on her photos as Chinny, she had neutralized the filter on _every_ photo of the book.

She stared at the picture for a moment longer, almost… _longing_ …

But, _no_. She closed the book resolutely, trying not to think of the faces staring back at her, the delicate writing wrapping itself carefully around the photo. Small mercies, she supposed.

She did not toss the book back inside the box, even though she doubted anyone would ever be able to find it again, after this.

“Sorry.” Yaz murmured, ducking her head.

The Doctor forced herself to breathe out, slowly, and calm her hearts, before offering her a smile. “Don’t worry about it, Yaz. I know you didn’t mean to.”

As Ryan stared at them, rising up from where he had slumped on the other side of the couch, just as lost now as he had been at the beginning of this all, the Doctor realized she was still clenching the book too tightly in her hands, and tried to force herself to relax.

When that failed, she forced herself to get up, instead.

“I think I’m going back to store this away, though.” She said, knowing Yaz wouldn’t buy any of her usual lies.

Yaz nodded, silent, still not quite looking at her, and the Doctor breathed out a sigh, silently, before nodding back, and offering an additional nod to Ryan.

“See you later?” Ryan asked, tentatively.

“Sure.” She agreed easily. “And if Graham gets back before you see me again, just ask the TARDIS to inform me.”

“Of course.” Yaz replied, immediately.

The Doctor smiled at them, content, and stepped away.

In the corridors of the TARDIS, she allowed herself to open the book and graze at the photo again.

Herself — her 10th self, with the bad case of narcissism —, stared up at her from the ground, lips too red and moist, bruises blooming over his neck and shoulders, but smiling dazedly in a way she remembered way too well. Behind his kneeling form, black-clad legs encroached her, one leather gloved hand wrapped around his hair, and another clearly responsible for taking the picture in the first place.

There was absolutely no hint of the second person’s face, no hint of the _identity_ of the other person, but she could tell who it was quite easily; she remembered it perfectly, after all, how she’d felt on the brink of breaking apart, on the brink of losing herself in an incomparable high. She could also pinpoint those gloves with perfect clarity, memories of lives long past buzzing in her mind, of deep voices and strong commands, and so much _hurt_ hidden in eyes that usually boiled with a fury that brimmed on insanity.

She had thought she had lost all of these pictures together with that one year, but… well. A paradox machine. What was one picture, compared to a whole universe?

She smiled, taking the picture away to hide in her pockets.

The writing, though, she left unattended, familiar handwritings curling together into words she was not yet ready to read.


	2. i convinced myself that i would never find you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor takes Graham to a ball in the future, and dance is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it Saturday yet? Well, not where I live, buuuuut... I'm honestly thinking of posting three chapters a week, bc it's terribly hard not to upload the whole story at once seeing how it's already complete. Ugh. Patience is not my strongest suit.
> 
> Anyway!  
> First instance of dancing (by the end of the story, you’ll see many more).  
> The Doctor and Graham go on a one-on-one adventure, ‘cuz I can’t write the whole gang for the life of me. (Though I try it, later on)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters do not belong to me. Neither does “Venus”, the song of the time, which is sung by Sleeping At Last (most DW band I’ve ever listened to).**
> 
> _(so, some of the chapter titles are actually hints to the content of the chapter. Either in the title itself or in the next part of the lyrics. I… might’ve had a bit of a fun choosing them)_

**Chapter 2**

The Doctor was tinkering under the console, pulling at cables just to frown at them — well, no, she was _trying_ to find the problem in the Cooling Rotor (System? Circuit?), but it escaped her —, when she heard the heavy steps that usually accompanied Graham’s arrival.

Not a minute later, Graham’s voice wandered over to her. “Doc?”

“Under here, Graham!” She called back, jiggling her free leg up in the air. She felt she was _almost_ getting it. Maybe. If she just could… reach… _that_ … or at least remember what, exactly, was the Cooling Rotor supposed to look like?

“Oh. Sorry. You busy.” Graham commented back, voice tinted with something alike to guilt, and she sighed, staring frustrated at the piece of… something metal-y… that slipped through her fingers, clanging loudly in her ears.

Right. She wasn’t doing this today, either.

“Nah, be right out, just a sec,” she promised, glaring one last time at the mess of wires over her eyes, before trying to shuffle back.

It was harder getting out than it had been going in, which meant it was almost _impossible_ to get out, because it was terribly annoying going in, in the first place. Still, with some creative wiggling, several curses in languages she knew the TARDIS wouldn’t translate, and a couple of banged bones, she finally managed to get herself out.

“You ok there, Doc?” Graham asked, lips twitching as they usually did when he was trying not to smile, crouched right in front of her.

She grinned back, pulling her protective goggles off her face with one hand, the other patting herself to check the sonic _was_ with her, and not stuck down there (it was, thankfully). “Fine! Just dandy! Hey, Graham. Want some tea?”

He nodded, stepping back as she vaulted forwards. She appreciated the space; she wasn’t quite as… ah, _graceless_ , this time around, but, still, _Graham_. He was… older than most of her friends, and she knew that usually meant nothing good for humans, and she just… Well.

She managed to balance herself just in time, resting a hand on the console for a moment as her legs tried to adapt back to being useful, instead of a waste of precious space. When she felt confident she could walk without looking like a trembling foal, she nodded once more, indicating the TARDIS’s corridors.

“C’mon, then. Two cuppas coming right out.”

As they walked, Graham talked lightly of his day, telling her of the friends he had gone visit, and the book he’d been reading. She listened, making the appropriate sounds when she felt he needed them, but mostly she just waited, feeling there was something on his mind.

Still, the companionable not-silence held until they were sitting in the kitchen, nursing their cups of tea (his, Darjeeling, with two sugar cubs and a drop of milk. Hers, jasmine and mint, with some honey and a hint of pepper that just might border on _too hot_. No one ever quite _wanted_ to drink hers, besides herself).

“D’you think…” he started, just to pause and drum his fingers against his teacup. For one fleeting moment, memories surged on her, brought up by photographs she had thought lost forever. She dismissed them, however, tapping twice on the table in a way she’d discovered, long ago, tended to interrupt one’s nervous tics. “D’you think the others would mind too much if we just… popped out, for a moment? Just the two of us?”

She should tell him no. She’d never been too good at being _responsible_ , though.

“Where do you wanna go?” She asked, instead.

He smiled, fleetingly, frown still etched into his face and shoulders too tense for him to be actually happy, but she took what she could.

“I… was thinking of a party. Maybe somewhere in the future. But… Earth. Or, well, Earth-related. Something familiar, at least.” He explained, soft, licking his lips. “Something… not too rowdy, though. For one of those, we can wait for the others.”

She could offer him to jump ahead a bit, grab Yaz and Ryan and free them of the ‘what-ifs’… but he didn’t seem to _want_ the other two around, either. Maybe… something not as suited for younger people, then. Something… more traditional.

She glanced around, thoughtfully. She could think of many things to do, many places to take him… but this was _Graham_. Not Yaz or Ryan, who sought adventure and the unusual. Graham liked things that were cosy, familiar, that reminded him of…

_Grace_. Ah.

Her death anniversary was just around the corner, wasn’t it?

“I know just the place,” she promised, thinking of late nights sitting by the doors of the TARDIS; of stars swirling around and voices lilted low, not to disturb their younger companions.

“Thanks, Doc.”

She patted his hand — so soft, so wrinkled, so _old_ under her own, yet so, so _young_ —, and rose from the chair with a huff.

“Finish your tea, Graham!” She ordered, finishing her own. “We have a wardrobe to visit, and a planet to check!”

**.**

Graham looked quite fetching in his tux, if one asked the Doctor. Unfortunately, he did not seem too pleased when she offered that very same compliment, which was a shame, because she had _meant_ it.

She also thought she, herself, looked pretty good. Not that she _minded_ it too much, but, well. She was presenting as female, this time around, and she wanted to try some dresses out, and this flowing fabric was pretty interesting. Weird. But interesting. She skipped on the heels, of course, because she never quite trusted herself on _those_ , but, still. A work in progress.

“Well!” She exclaimed, pushing the last button on the TARDIS to make sure they would stay away from any trouble, just this once. “If all goes well…”

“I _sure_ hope it does…”

“We should land in Therraria, an Earth Colony, in the 52nd Century. They like to recreate ‘famous’ Earth centuries, and I am _aiming_ for some charming 18th century ballroom dancing.” She finished, talking over Graham’s comments easily.

“Well…” Graham muttered, pulling at his bowtie. “I hope you’re right. Because if I have to run in this cloth, I don’t know if I’ll make it.”

She patted his shoulder comfortingly. “Even if I _do_ get it right, we can also end up having to run, Graham!”

“ _Not helpful!_ ”

She laughed, and held tight as the TARDIS lurched around them, landing noisily on — she checked the monitor, despite her preference _not_ to — Therraria, 52nd Century.

_Right place. Right time._

She gave herself a mental high-five, and spun around. “Here we are! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Graham groaned softly behind her as she pushed the doors open, but she could feel him fall still as they got their first glimpse of the ballroom.

_Right moment, too_ , she added with a smug grin.

The place was… richly decorated, she settled on; heavy, golden curtains, glittering chandeliers, an elevated space for the band (that emulated an Earth’s, 18th century band perfectly), glass floors and huge windows all around the round-ish room. It positively _gleamed_. Some of the participants too, she noticed as she saw a couple aliens walking past her with flaming hair and another with skin that glittered like jewellery.

“It’s certainly… _brilliant_ ,” Graham commented, walking a bit more to stand by her side. “ _Really_ brilliant.”

She smirked, “Aren’t you happy I made you change clothes, now?”

He laughed, voice echoing strangely in the tight space she had parked the TARDIS (was this a coat cabinet?). “Well, _you_ certainly fit in.” He murmured, pulling lightly at her flowing skirt. “I just… look _old_.”

She frowned, turning around to stare him down. “Graham. If _I_ am not old, then you _certainly_ are not.” Before he could protest, she pulled him along, stepping into the ballroom itself. “Now, come along. Let’s have some fun!”

The song playing was good — not _really_ an 18th century song, but it emulated one well enough, she supposed. It reminded her of a waltz. Or a mix of waltz and some other kind of dance. She had never been too good at names, actually. _Or dancing, most of her regenerations_ , she remembered with a grimace. She hoped she wouldn’t be _too_ bad, this time.

“Shall we?” She asked, offering Graham a hand.

“What? You want to dance? With _me_?” He asked, taking a step back with huge eyes fluttering all over the place, a small grimace around his mouth. “There are… _millions_ of people here. You could ask any one of them as a partner, if you’d like, Doc!” He continued to protest lightly, gesturing at some of the passing people. “I’m happy just watching.”

She shrugged easily. “I don’t want them. I want to dance with _you_.”

She could see his throat working as he swallowed, but at last his hand raised, resting on hers so lightly she feared he would still go running off.

“C’mon. You know how to waltz, right?” She asked, pulling him along to a place that was both empty-ish and closer to the band, so they could hear the song better. And so they could be _part_ of the party, to be honest. “I haven’t danced in a while, so I might be… _rusty_.” She added, licking her lips with some nerves she wouldn’t admit to.

He nodded, cautiously, and took position. It took her a moment to remember she was a woman, this time, and supposed to be led; that _Graham_ might expect her to allow herself to be led around in the dance. She had learned both sides of dancing, of course, _long_ ago, but her last partners preferred being led around, and she… was even less used to being led than leading. This might be… _interesting_ , she supposed.

She took a deep breath, and offered Graham a small smile as he moved to start dancing.

She followed him; it was strange, at first. She was always trying to be the first to move, and it felt _strange_ to let someone else guide her like this, but… when she allowed herself to relax, to just let herself feel the music, instead of trying to think ahead of her partner, she started to feel just the slightest bit… _happy_ with it.

_Not too bad at dancing, this time around_ , she decided with a grin.

When the second song wound down, Graham stopped for a moment longer than a short break, sweaty and out of breath, and the Doctor remembered he was just human, and not of the best health, at that.

“Want to grab something to eat?” She asked, pulling him off the ballroom carefully. They had wandered even further into the crowd, and she had to glare some people away from their way, but it wasn’t particularly hard to do. “Something to drink, maybe. Grab some refreshments, take a break, watch some people dancing for a while…”

Graham hummed quietly, sagging a bit under her touch, and she found the buffet, at last, guiding them there. Thankfully, it was filled to the brim, piled heavily with food based on Earth cuisine (though the Doctor could see some things she’d never _actually_ seen on Earth, not even after the first couple travels out to space).

“Thanks, Doc,” Graham murmured, sitting on a free chair she took him to. “Sorry; I can’t quite keep up as I tended to do, anymore.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You like waltz, right? I brought you here to have fun. It wouldn’t be too fun if you pushed yourself even when you don’t feel comfortable.”

He smiled, lips twitching tightly, and nodded. “Yeah, I… liked to dance. With…”

“Grace.” She finished, sitting by his side and stretching her legs to rest her knees for a while. She leaned back, twisting around a bit to reach the food on the table beside them. She took a plate for Graham, piling it with things he’d find familiar. “Here.”

He nodded, murmuring another vague thanks, and she twisted back around to take her own plate. She wanted some of the food on the _other_ side of the table, but she wasn’t feeling like getting up just now, so she made do with some Earth-look-alike, as well. Still, she stared longingly for a moment longer at the glistening tarte she could just barely see from here.

“So. You enjoying it?” She asked, propping her plate on her thigh, taking care not to dirty the silver of her dress. The twinkles had been nice, at first, but now, under these glittering lights, she didn’t know if she enjoyed them as much. “The party.”

“Uh. It’s… nice. Fancier than what I’m used to. And I’m not as… _young_ , anymore, but…”

“Graham,” she chided, again. “You still have much to live!”

She saw him duck his head from the corner of her eyes as she stuffed some meat-thing in her mouth. It was… spicy. But… _too_ spicy. She put it back down. No, not her, anymore. She tried some other meat — bird, maybe? —, and found it much more pleasant, being kind of sweet.

She hummed, pleased. “Anyway. Do you want me to grab you something else?”

“Nah, it’s fine, Doc.” Graham shook his head. “I’ll just… sit here, for a moment. If you want, you can go back to dancing?”

She looked at him for a moment longer, trying to gauge whether he meant that or not. He seemed… honest, though.

“Maybe.” She conceded. “Later, though.” After she finished this plate, at least.

The… _spicy-meat_ was not her, but she liked the sweet-bird. And the salad wasn’t… _too_ bad, this time, but she wasn’t a fan, either. She _really_ liked the small cube of sugary-thingy, though. It tasted a bit like chocolate, but it was really, _really_ soft. Like pudding. But with crunchy-bits, inside, that were citric and were _amazing_.

She finished the plate quicker than she thought she would, and was thinking about getting some more cube-things, but was also thinking about going dancing again. She wasn’t too sure.

She looked at Graham, but he was still eating his own food — well, he might have taken more, because she didn’t remember getting him any of those green-thingies —, and didn’t seem too interested in dancing, right now. So, maybe not?

“Hello,” a strange voice called to her.

She looked around, focusing instantly on the woman in front of her. She was tall — taller than she was in this body, probably —, and looked very… beautiful, she supposed. All angular and sharp and dressed in a very neat suit that hugged her tightly.

The Doctor had never seen her before in her life, yet, looking at those eyes — grey, too _grey_ —, she felt… _something_. Some… _itch_ in the back of her mind.

“Hello.” She replied, cautious.

Red, red lips spread on a smirk, a curvature that reminded her of things long gone, and she shook herself mentally, trying to focus on this woman — this truly _beautiful_ woman, in fact. The woman was talking, wasn’t she?

Yes, yes she was.

“Would you give me the pleasure of having this dance? I promise not to bother you again, afterwards, if you deem me too terrible a dancer,” the stranger asked, prim and charming, offering her a hand with manicured nails.

The Doctor took one last glance at Graham — who nodded, sleepily —, and shrugged. “Ok. I see no harm in it.”

Well, of course, many adventures of hers had started with things that were even more innocuous than this. But she was decided to have _just this once_ of a good outing without it ending in uncountable trouble.

The stranger — the Doctor really needed a name for her, she supposed — shook her hand pointedly, though she somehow managed to make even that look natural. It took a couple seconds, but the Doctor remembered her manners just in time with Graham’s pointed coughing, and she took the offered hand in her own.

“Shall we?” Red Lips asked sweetly, pulling her up with a movement that looked much more fluid than any of the Doctor’s own attempts at pulling people up. Clearly, this woman not only looked good, but was _strong_.

_And_ , the Doctor added, as she stepped closer, _not human_.

It wasn’t unusual, of course; few in this room were _actually_ human, after all. But, she looked _perfectly_ human, even up close. Still, she ran… too cold, for a human being. Cooler than expected from one who should be dancing, as well.

It reminded her of something, again, but then, the woman was smiling at her and stepping back, fluid, and the Doctor had no choice but to follow her.

“You come here often, dear?” Red Lips asked, guiding her into a small turn.

The Doctor stumbled for a moment, needing a second to situate herself in the ballroom and to realize they were already dancing, before grinning. “Not too often, no. My friend wanted to come, though.”

“Oh? Just a _friend_?” Red Lips enunciated slowly, eyes glistening from the lights above.

_She really is taller,_ the Doctor thought distantly. It was strange, to be shorter than women. Her last bodies had been so _tall_ , this was a… novelty. “Yeah. And you? Came alone?”

Red Lips hummed, and the Doctor moved as she was sent twirling, the waltz mixing easily into something with more of a beat as the song behind them picked up the pace. She spun back to place with a grin, feeling silly for being so chirpy about a simple manoeuvre, but unwilling to try and change it.

“Yes.”

She needed a moment to remember what was the question, but tilted her head as she did. “I did not expect that. Came for the dance, then?”

Red Lip’s laugh was more of a chuckle, something throaty and heavier than the Doctor had been expecting, but it suited her, she supposed. “In a way.”

What was that even _supposed_ to mean?

The Doctor blinked, side-stepped a couple twirling their way, and flowed forwards, bending Red Lips back with a hand on her back.

It was only as the woman rose herself with a small laugh that the Doctor realized she had stepped up to lead the dance in the middle of it, and that the woman didn’t even stumble at it.

“Sorry,” she muttered, ducking her head with the unfamiliar feeling of heat blooming over her cheeks.

For one moment, she was sure there was a touch in her cheeks, but it was so fleeting, and she could still feel both of the woman’s hands in her hips, so she thought it might have been her imagination.

“Don’t worry about it,” said the woman airily, breath tickling the Doctor’s brow with their proximity. “It’s much more amusing like this.”

She grinned broadly, set alight with the admission, and let go.

For the next couple of songs, she danced, without caring for anything else. She just let herself focus on the woman in her arms, the woman leading her around, the woman she was leading around, the way the music reverberated in her bones. It was terribly _freeing_.

It might have taken a minute, an hour or a whole day, but then, all too soon and much too late, the woman was stepping back, eyes shining with their exercise and something akin to mirth. “Sorry, dear, but I am afraid I have to go, now.”

“Oh.” The Doctor said, softly. Then, she remembered Graham, poor Graham, for whom she had come in the first place, and felt herself blushing, again. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, makes sense. Uh… nice meeting you. Thanks for the dance.”

This time, she was certain she had not imagined the touch in her cheek, soft and fond, but it was still too fleeting, just a _brush_ , before the woman stepped back, and the Doctor wasn’t sure what to think of it.

She decided not to think at all, then, returning to Graham, instead.

“Hey.” She called, seeing him still resting on the chair she had left him, an empty plate and an empty glass in hands. “Sorry for leaving you behind on your own.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I certainly wasn’t whisked away by any pretty lady, but these things are _amazing_ ,” he drawled, a small bit of a drag in his voice as he raised his glass, and the Doctor glanced around to see glasses just like his filled with sparkling, blubblering silvery-pink drinks. Ah; well, he certainly found the alcohol, then. “And, well, it’s nice. Just. Seeing you let yourself be, for once.”

She startled, looking back at him with puzzlement. She hadn’t…

But then, she realized, she _had_. She had had… _fun_ with that strange woman. She had _trusted_ her, to an extent. It had been… exhilarating, and good natured, and just all around _nice_.

Even though it _did_ remind her of times long gone, of dancing to a beat that was just hers, just _theirs_. Things she had loved so dearly and lost so abruptly she still ached for, even now. Times of joy and wonder, of being _whole_ for once… and times of fear, despair, and hating every single second of that happiness that bubbled within.

Of a song made of heartsbeats and the whirl of time.

She cleared her throat, feeling self-conscious at once. “Uh. Still. Wanna go one more song, before we go back to Yaz and Ryan?”

Graham smiled at her. “Nah. Let’s just go?”

She blushed, scratching at her cheek; she really shouldn’t have _forgotten_ him. “Yeah. Let’s.”

Still. She couldn’t quite bring herself to _regret it_ , not when it had ended really being just a piece of harmless fun, for once.

(She still stole a bit of a tarte before making her way to the TARDIS. It tasted wonderfully sweet. Like cherry lipsticks, the Doctor decided giddy. Red cherry lipsticks.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned on the Disclaimers, song of the title is "Venus", by Sleeping At Last.
> 
> For the moment, next chapter will be coming on Tuesday (and still no Missy in it. Chapter 4 _has_ Missy, though), but I might update it earlier. Depends on my mood, honestly.


	3. wash the echoes out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Yaz and Ryan go on a drinking fest. I mean, a karaoke night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, earlier than expected? Yeah it is. But I'm going out tomorrow (a friend is staying with me, and we have things to do _all week_ , and this is my first busy vacation in yeeeeeeeears), so, here you have it!
> 
> So! Hold your horses, here comes the angst! Also, one of the main themes of this story, because I’m terribly awful like that.
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters do not belong to me. And “Drumming Song” is sung by Florence + the Machine, so I’m guessing it’s hers.**
> 
> _(I originally intended to call this story “the drumming song” because, let’s be honest, that’s one of the most Thoschei songs ever, buuuuut. The name sounded strange. In the end, I chose to go with “Symphony” — which is another song that suits them awfully well —, and name it “a rhapsody for you and me” instead)_

**Chapter 3**

After getting back from the dance with Graham, the Doctor had to promise Yaz and Ryan not to go on another adventure with just one of them — or, at least, if she _did_ , to do so with each one of them.

And so, here she was.

“ _Karaoke_?” She repeated, just to be sure, staring at Yaz, who looked very hopeful, and Ryan, who looked very cautious, in turns.

“Yeah. It’ll be fun!” Yaz agreed, nodding with a large smile. “Just imagine; the three of us, singing silly songs, drinking together…”

“Let me have the drinks,” muttered Ryan, shuffling behind Yaz with a frown. “And I’ll avoid the songs.”

The Doctor hummed, trying the thought out in her mind. She wasn’t… _used_ to karaoke. She was almost sure that she had last tried it out with… _Rose_. _Centuries_ ago. Still, she had once liked it very much; she hadn’t been particularly _good_ at it, but she had _enjoyed_ it, anyway, and what was the worst that could happen? Some alien attack them?

“I suppose,” she allowed, slowly, biting her own lip. “I suppose Graham won’t come with?”

Ryan shook his head, staring at the vague direction of the door of the TARDIS, and the Doctor imagined, for a moment, if he was picturing his and Graham’s flat, beyond.

“No, Granddad… Graham said he’d like to go visit Nan’s grave.”

_Ah_. She nodded, hearts heavy with the familiar mix of pain and guilt that she had never quite managed to free herself from, and walked to the console, instead of saying one of the many things flying through her head.

She cleared her throat, resting her hands on the vibrating metal of her TARDIS. “So. You ready? We can go directly there, if you’d prefer, or we can stop by Yaz’s home, grab whatever you need. If you need something, that is.”

“Nah, we’re good.” Yaz answered, voice slightly lower than before, but still trying for hope. “Let’s go drink and sing some.”

She looked over her shoulder to see Yaz’s hand on Ryan’s elbow; otherwise, the two of them looked terribly normal — smiling, eyeing her with curiosity, _trusting_ her.

She breathed out harshly.

“Of course. Grab something, then!”

She danced around the console, hearing a beat in her hearts that reminded her of the music she had danced to, not long ago. Her hands flew randomly over the TARDIS, pressing whatever struck her fancy and trusting her Sexy to hear what she wanted in her mind, for she was in no mood to give the process much thought. She pressed some of the big, important looking buttons she thought were supposed to be pressed — the red-stabilizers (instead of her old blue-boringners), the glowing destinators, the vibrating space-shift, the blue… _thingie_ that made the TARDIS untouchable, and things like that.

(She was almost sure there were less buttons on her TARDIS this time around than there had been just on her past regeneration. She wondered whether that was even important.)

The song in her mind took a different pace; something excited, impatient, and she pulled the last lever, dematerializing the TARDIS to the rhythm of a four beat waltz.

They were hurtled through time and space, and she laughed, untethered, holding tighter to the metal of her trusty ship. She loved this thrill, loved…

The feeling of being falling, as the TARDIS materialized once again with a heavy thud and a wheezing hum.

She laughed again, breathless, and pulled the monitor around to check the environments.

“So…” Yaz started, wondering, a few seconds after they had arrived. “Where _are_ we?”

The Doctor smiled, looking up to direct it at her friends, and twirled the monitor around for them to see. “Eurysjianf 23, planet of karaoke.”

“Eur…Euro… _what_?” Yaz asked, blinking slowly. “Wait. Planet of _what_?”

“There’s a whole _planet_ of karaoke?” Ryan added, muttering.

“ _Well_ ,” the Doctor corrected herself, shrugging. “It’s not _technically_ a planet. It’s called that because… it sounded better, I guess? But, it’s quite a small moon, really. They wanted to call it the _Star_ of Karaoke, but that would be even _less_ accurate, so, Planet it is. It’s barely the size of London, really.”

“Still. A whole _city_ of karaoke.” Ryan shook his head, laughing quietly. “What, are there only karaoke bars?”

“No, of course not,” she frowned. “There are bars. And karaoke shops. And shops designed for musicians, in general terms. And parks, where it’s common to have public presentations. And Restaurants, of course, because you can’t have a tourist spot _without_ restaurants. And tea shops, because it’s terribly popular with singers, it turns out. And trip agencies. And hotels. And…” She stopped, going through everything she had just listed once again. “No, that’s it. Another place missing the little gift shop.”

“More than I expected, still.” Ryan admitted, offering her a smile.

“You know a lot of it. Do you come here often?” Yaz asked, stepping closer to take a better look at the monitor the Doctor had offered them. “It doesn’t seem like the kind of place that has too much trouble.”

She grinned, happy. “You’d be surprised; I once encountered a dispute between two singers on a park who both wanted to get the most attention for their presentations, and it ended up in a giant argument that lasted _days_.”

“ _That’s not_ … How does that even…?” Ryan muttered.

“But, no, I don’t come here often,” she admitted. “I think, last time I was here, I was still a teenager?”

Ryan and Yaz both stopped, looking at her for a moment.

“What?” She asked, flushing a bit and fidgeting in place.

“Uh. So… you don’t come here in… 20-30 years? How do you even know the planet… star… moon… _city_ , whatever… still works the same?” Ryan asked, frowning.

“20-30 years?” She repeated.

“Uh, yeah? Sorry, I mean, I know you’re not supposed to ask a lady’s age, just…”

“Ryan. I’m an _alien_. I’ve said this before.” She reminded them, slowly.

“Yeah, we know that. And _I_ remember you travel in time, so I’m guessing you just brought us to the time space you _knew_ this place in, in the first place.” Yaz answered, slapping Ryan’s shoulder lightly as the boy came to stand by her side.

“No… well, yes, absolutely right, a gold star for you, Yaz. Or are we doing points? 10 points for you, then.” She waved it off. They were missing the _entire point_. “I’m _an alien_. I’m not… _human_. I don’t…” She scrunched her face, trying to think of a way to put it that wouldn’t seem too rude. _Always try to be gentle,_ she reminded herself. “My rules are _different_. I’ve shown you pictures, right? Of myself. In the past.”

Yaz nodded. “Yeah, as a man. The one who wore bowties. And the cockatoo. And you mentioned a Scotsman?”

“ _Yes_.” She nodded eagerly. “I’ve been _all of them_. And I’ve been…” she waved a hand over herself, “ _this_ for… what? A year, now? Two?”

“One and a half, Doctor.” Yaz answered, promptly.

“More ten points, Yaz!” She clapped her hands. “Yes, well. So, what, you thought I just… lived in a body for, don’t know, five years, then went and changed bodies?”

Ryan and Yaz looked at each other, identical frowns on their faces, and she watched in a mix of curiosity and guilt as they shrugged, lips pulled tight.

“I _s’ppose_ …” Ryan murmured, looking down instead of meeting her eyes.

“I… that’s not even…” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. She tapped the TARDIS’s console, flicking the monitor off, and cutting off the vibrations that still ran under her feet, leaving them in parking rest. “I’m not _young_ , guys. I’m… well, I’m not _old_ , either, I think. I _should_ be dead, but I’m not _old_. I’m… at my peak age? If we… really think about maths and things?”

Yaz nodded quickly, though she wasn’t looking at the Doctor’s eyes, either. “Yes! Yes, you’re… you’re not old, Doctor! We’re not saying you are!”

She snorted lightly. “But I’m saying I _am_. To you lot. I’m not _human_ , Yasmin Khan.” She chided, tapping Yaz’s temple lightly with a forefinger. “I don’t _age_ like you two, not quite.” She waved over herself again. “And this body is _new_ , so even if I _did_ age at the same rhythm, it wouldn’t show. No, instead, this body is quite recent, yes, a year and a half, you said. But _me_ — I am over two thousand years old in age. My _teenage years_ were _quite_ a long time ago, I’m afraid.”

There was a short pause, then Ryan snorted, and Yaz looked her directly in the eyes, asking, “I’m sorry. I think I heard you wrong? I thought you said you were _two thousand_ years old?”

She offered them a bitter smile; _better not_ _mention the four billions more,_ she thought wryly. “Yes.”

Ryan stopped laughing at once, staring at her like he’d never seen her before. “Two thousand years old.”

She nodded, quiet, and grimaced lightly as he let out a short, gasped out swear word.

“How is that even…” he motioned a hand in the air, gaping at her wordlessly.

“Possible?” Offered Yaz, looking a bit pale in the face and round in the eyes.

She gestured at herself once again: “Alien.”

They stared — and then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m getting what you’re saying.”

She laughed. They weren’t even _close_ to ‘getting it’.

**.**

She had thought they’d end up skipping town, wasting the whole day because of the shock — humans were like that, sometimes, she knew. They did not… _cope well_ when something beyond their grasp was tossed in their faces.

Instead, Yaz had breathed deeply, not five minutes later, and muttered: “Okay. I’ll probably keep thinking on that for ages, still, so it won’t do us any good to stop now. Some drinks? And singing. We came for the karaoke, after all!”

And… well. The Doctor grinned, warm and lighter, and nodded, happy to let it go, for the moment — of course, she should know better. Her friends had _always_ been the best of her, after all.

So, they ended up roaming the streets of Ugh-dar, instead, until they stumbled into a karaoke shop that wasn’t too crowded and that allowed them to pay for the whole day, instead of charging them the hour. Plus, with some extra, they managed to get themselves free range of food and beverages delivered directly to their room, and the assurance that _no one_ would bother them.

She was particularly pleased with that last one, actually.

Specially seeing how, first thing they did after settling in, was order a whole tray of some fizzing alcoholic drinks, laughing at each other’s silly attempts of singing songs they didn’t even know the language for (though the Doctor did try to make sure only Earthen songs came up for her friends. She, herself, could sing in a rather large variety of languages, but she just realized she didn’t have the same interest in it, anymore), until they were drinking more than singing anymore, and her humans were properly _smashed_.

“Y’know…” slurred Ryan slightly, leaning forward over their table and almost falling off the couch he was sitting on, in the process.

Thankfully, despite the establishment not being as popular as some others, it was still modern enough to offer them expansive, cloudy couches on three sides of a glass-looking table, and screens with the lyrics of any currently-playing song at every wall and on the ceiling, so even laying down, as Yaz was, she could sing together with the songs. The Doctor too, even slumped over the table, trying to find some comfortable position. Not that she _was_ singing, though; instead, she just listened to Yaz sing along _terribly_ , giggling in a silly manner every other minute, just as drunk as Ryan.

Who, apparently, finally remembered what he had been meaning to ask.

“I was w’ndering…” He cleared his throat, the sound harsh and wet, and groaned a bit. “If you’re so… so _old_ … didja ever… _marry_?”

She snorted, lips twitching unwittingly into a smile, feeling half-tipsy herself, even though she had barely sipped at one single drink before she stopped, not liking the taste; it must be the air here, tasting of so much alcohol and… and _drunkenness_. “Oh yeah,” she replied, voice dry but dripping with amusement. _More than once_ , she added mentally, thinking of many faces and an argument that never quite found itself a point.

“Ohh?” Yaz’s voice interrupted her wandering mind, high and breathy in the way the Doctor had noticed it tended to get when she was more than a bit inebriated. “Tell, tell!”

“Well…” she paused, but decided on, “I married Marilyn Monroe, for one.”

Yaz laughed hard at that, though the Doctor seriously doubted it had been that funny. Drunken people were strange, she decided, smiling slightly as she rearranged her legs once again.

“An’… are they… living, still?” Ryan asked, quiet. “You said ‘for one’. You married more, yea?”

She turned her head to be able to stare at him directly. His face was drawn shut, eyes downcast as he drew something on the surface of the table, making songs flick on endlessly accidentally until he realized it was his fault, and he changed to twisting his hands together.

“Yeah.” She admitted, soft. Distantly, she realized Yaz was _too_ quiet, especially for her level of drunken-high, and took a peek around the table to notice the girl on the verge of sleep, small snore-like sounds escaping her from time to time. “I did.”

Ryan continued staring at his hands, mouth drawn tight and brows frowned into something sad.

She probably could ask; he wasn’t the type to avoid direct questions, even when sober, and in the state he was currently, he was unlikely to even _manage_ to do so, even if he wanted to.

Still, it felt a bit like an intrusion to ask him whether he was thinking about Grace, so she kept shut, and simply answered him, instead.

“No.” She sighed, leaning back against her couch, instead of letting her weight fall on the table as she had been doing until now. “No, most of them are not alive, anymore.”

_Or any,_ she corrected herself bitterly, thinking of golden curls and a red smirk. Of a vibrant, furious energy and pain that ran as deep as her blood. Of familiar words, of familiar voices, of promises she never managed to keep, and of stars that would never be quite enough.

“I’m sorry.” Ryan murmured, even quieter than before, resting his hands and pressing them flat against the table. “I don’t… mean to _pry_. I jus’…”

“Want to know how to help Graham?” She asked, despite promising herself she wouldn’t. Must be the tipsy-thingie, she decided.

Ryan nodded, sullen, and she sighed again.

“Well… time’s supposed to heal all.” She offered, trying for nonchalant and hoping Ryan was too drunk to notice how _hurt_ she truly was.

“I s’ppose…”

She stared at him for a moment longer, then rolled her head back, resting her neck against the back support of the couch. She wanted to go home. To her TARDIS. To feel… _tethered_. All of this… this planet, this conversation, this…

This _song_ , she realized, slowly, as she allowed herself to actually _listen_ ; haunting, slow notes vibrating deep in her hearts, a throaty voice that belonged to a race no human could ever imitate, but only sounded so terribly beautiful for it.

So terribly _heartsbreaking_.

She breathed out, shakily, and closed her eyes tightly. It was all so… so _much_. It reminded her too much of things she always managed to ignore, too used to ignoring the signs to actually _let herself feel them_. But here, basically on her own as her friends slumbered and muttered on, too out of it to actually _remember_ things (and, well, there was always another option if they _did_ …), with a song she had never heard before but that sounded like… like something she _should know_. Like something from her damned _childhood_. In a planet she had last visited… _eons_ ago, with…

Well.

There was no easy way to say it in English or any other Earthen language — they all lacked the verb tenses she required, after all —, but she still found herself translating it silently, needing to fill the silence in her mind.

_I give myself forever / even when time ceases to be_

No… no, it was more of a _permanence_ , an eternity in the lack of time, an infinity that had already ended. It was a time that was both past and future; _forever_ , made verbal.

Still, how did one go through translating _that_ , when her whole being knew no way to express it but by linking herself mentally to someone else?

“Is that… a lullaby?” Asked Yaz, clearly awake, despite what the Doctor had thought.

“What?” She asked, watching as Yaz sat up, slow and groaning lightly.

“Your song.” Yaz explained, then giggled. “Or poetry, I guess. But it sounded like a lullaby.”

She blinked slowly, and turned to Ryan, who was nodding, eyes dark and soft as they looked at her.

“Oh.” She muttered. She hadn’t realized she had been singing it out-loud. Now she listened for it, though, she realized she was _still_ humming it, deep in her throat. The melody of time, an echo of the TARDIS in her mind, but also a melody of love and pain and giving, just as her four-beat heartsbeat.

She tried to stop it, for one moment, but it felt… _stifling_. Stopping something so natural as this, especially when she wasn’t totally… in control of her defences. And, anyway, they were in a karaoke, and her friends were _drunk_ … what was the chance they would think this anything more than just some…

“Yeah. A lullaby.” She agreed, though it wasn’t quite right. “Or… a nursery rhyme, I suppose. It is sung to tots, at times.” But not _mainly_ for them, no. She remembered listening to it the first time, in a field of red grass burning under an orange sky.

“A pledge, mostly.” She murmured, unwitting, and screwed her face in a grimace a second later.

“A pledge?” Yaz asked, still rumpled and sleep-soft, and. Well. She looked just…

The Doctor smiled despite herself, and repeated the verses she had managed to translate. “ _I give myself forever / even when time ceases to be_ ,” then, she thought of the comfort of someone who wasn’t there anymore, someone who burned bright as a star and felt as cool as herself. “ _I am yours / for as long as you give me space._ ”

Yaz laughed, eyes huge and brilliant, looking terribly beautiful. “It’s a _love song_!” The Doctor’s hearts accelerated, song humming away in her mind — a four-beat drum and the breath of chirping voices. “Is that a _marriage_ pledge? It’s _beautiful_.”

_Take me, and I show you my soul_ , she completed in her hearts.

“It is.” She nodded, queasy. “Sometimes.”

Others, it was just a promise. Something one reached for, never to reach. Something whispered in the night, under the brilliance of stars and worlds unexplored, that would never be kept.

Others still, it was a eulogy.

She sang it again, in her hearts, humming softly to the sound of harps and flutes, a song that fit no other community but her own, and wondered what _her_ song represented.

_A promise,_ whispered the optimist inside her.

_A eulogy_ , whispered the realist, looking at Yaz’s soft face as she danced quietly in place to the sound of her song.

_A love song_ , added the pessimist, staring at Ryan, who seemed to project, in his whole body: _I am sorry_.


	4. i'll be safe in your sound 'til i come back around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor is a damsel in distress.  
> (Is anyone even surprised?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I way, way, WAY ahead of myself? Uhhh... yep! Buuuut, I'm happy and concerned both and I really don't do well with deadlines, sooooo... here we go! Cheers to "The Lion King" for putting me in a good mood!
> 
> This one is pretty much a whump chapter, because I had the sudden strike of mood. And because this was back when I was still loosely following the 30 Days Challenge, and this one was about “Princess and Knights” and I just really wanted the Doctor to be in distress. So; whump. But, hey, Missy finally, actually appear!
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who isn’t mine, nor are the characters mine. The song of the time is “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi (awesome song. Even better video, with special participation of Peter Capaldi in it).**

**Chapter 4**

It had started perfectly _fine_. After a couple trips with selective parts of her gang (team? Fam?), she had finally managed to gather them all together, and they had set out to an adventure, united yet again, and it had been _awesome_.

And then, she decided to travel on her own. Just for a while. Just to… _see_. If she could.

Her hearts had felt both tight and light, somehow, as she pushed the buttons of her TARDIS, the Randomizer activated with glee. She kind of thought about going for the “purple-rain planet” she had been planning on taking her friends… but she hadn’t actually put that coordinates. Just kind-of thought about it, then shrugged, and decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

The destination had, obviously, _not_ been what she’d thought about, and she wasn’t even surprised, anymore. Her TARDIS had rematerialized into a starbound land, set alight with silvery threads of fire threaded through a town that smelled heavenly, with a mix of sweets and some flowery sea breeze. It wasn’t the purple-rain planet, but it was _beautiful_ , too.

The Doctor had thought it was fine. She was somewhere she didn’t know, experiencing things that were quite novel for her, and she could just let herself go, laughing cheerfully as she explored markets of food and trinkets.

Then, she had stumbled into a… bookshop, perhaps — Ryan certainly would have called it so, at least —, and things went _slightly_ bent-shaped.

“I apologize?” She asked again, backing away slowly to give herself time to think of _something_ or Do A Thing, if she were lucky. “I swear I did not mean whatever it is I did to offend you!”

The alien in front of her — with long cords of braided hair that melted easily into zir head and long fangs that did not make zir speech any easier — growled, a deep growl that was born in one’s throat and travelled deep into someone else’s throat.

“You did, Time Born,” ze corrected, eyes flashing with something much akin to hatred. “You came into our home, centuries ago; you with your old eyes and your _magic blue box_ ,” ze spat out, advancing just as slowly, limbs heavy and dragging on the stone floor. “And you took. Took and _took_. Everything we ever had. Everything we ever held dear. You _took_ , and you destroyed. So. Very. Utterly.”

Ze continued with a long, distressed hiss that was half-snake and half-something else. It was a dangerous yet terribly haunting sound, and the Doctor…

She froze.

“You’re…” she paused, head tilted to the side, parsing through her memory as she pressed her vision together, trying to fix it to be just as it had once been, so long ago.

Light-grey skin bled easily into a brilliant green tone, in her mind. A good colour to hide zem, in the forests of zeir home planet. A planet that had once shone with lush green foliage and throaty avian-life.

A planet that was now barely more than ashes and the remnants of a community full of life. A planet that had been destroyed, long ago, for the sake of the War.

_Their_ War.

And the Doctor had been there. Incapable of saving zem, when zey needed it the most.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” she murmured with much more feeling than before, sincerity bleeding from every pore of her being.

“Well,” ze grinned, showing all zir fangs. “You’re in luck.” Ze stepped even closer, drawing zirself to zir full height, and she swallowed dryly, but remained stock still. “You will have the opportunity to fix your wrongdoings!”

She should have seen it coming quite before this, but then, she had focused all her attention to the alien before her, the one with the gleaming mad eyes and the _bloody gun in zir hands_.

So, instead, she crumbled, holding tight to the last remnants of her consciousness, as she felt a dull pain spreading from her nape and could see her hands trembling on the ground as if they were someone else’s hands. There had been someone else in the shop. Someone else there to attack her. Someone else…

**.**

She woke up groggily, feeling an ache in her whole body and a dreadful taste in the back of her mouth.

She tried moving, tried to force herself upright with the knowledge she had to be somewhere (though she wasn’t even sure _where_ she was), but it felt impossible. Her limbs simply didn’t seem keen on obeying her. Actually, they felt a lot like they were _someone else’s_ , or as if she had just regenerated — and she stopped, for one moment, afraid she had done just so. She had been quite attached to this last body, she thought; it had been novel, it had been _fun_. She wasn’t _ready yet_ …

But, as she managed to see when she finally succeeded in rolling her head around, her hands were still her own, and her legs were still perfectly clad in her familiar pants. Nothing different there. Just…

Very, very _heavy_.

A groan echoed in the room she was in, and it was only as she realized there was no one else in the room with her that she noticed it had come from her.

What had they _done_ to her? (And — not that she was complaining, but, well, her _luck_ —, why hadn’t they _killed_ her?)

She blinked, slowly, and focused on her hands enough to see they were still trembling — had they shocked her, then? But just electric shock _shouldn’t_ be able to do this…

She tried to move again, and her arms splashed around, uselessly. Some… some _bio_ shock, then? Some radiation? An injection or something? Were they trying to kill her slowly, making sure she suffered for it? Fuck, it was hard to focus on things.

With much struggle, she managed to force herself to turn completely on her side, breathing heavily as she rested her brow on the cold stone ground. She felt so, so… _hot_. And bloody _useless_.

She groaned again, and felt happy that she at least realized it with just a tiny bit of a delay. This was awful. She didn’t want to _ever_ repeat this. Ugh.

“Oh, dear.”

… That hadn’t been her, had it?

She crawled as best as she could, turning around just the smallest bit — gritting her teeth with the effort, a rush of pain and fire shooting through her with the movement; whatever had been injected on her was clearly running off; not a slow death, then —, until she managed to turn her head in the general direction of the voice. There, thankfully, she _did_ find someone else, standing (she thought?) in an opening on the room.

Really, she should be calling it a cell. It was a cell.

She struggled to form words, proper words, too, not just another formless moan, but it still sounded more like a high-pitched yelp than anything else, whatever it was she did.

“Yes. I can see it.”

She thought she knew that voice, but it was hard to tell. The sound here travelled much strangely, she thought. Or maybe it was something in her ears? Were they ringing? She raised a hand — still trembling, but now she could move them, more or less, and she could _feel_ the tremble in the points of her fingers, at the very least.

“Just a second, dear. I’ll take you right out of there.”

She might have said something. Or maybe let out another groan, at the very least, but she couldn’t even tell whether she succeeded at that or not, because things seemed to be positively _shimmering_ in front of her, rocks swimming together in a dizzying display of absolute bloody shite.

“Come on, dear; take a deep breath. You are losing consciousness.”

That… sounded right.

She focused on taking a deep breath, even when it shuddered and felt utterly _wrong_ , and clenched her fingers the best she could, trying to hold on to the physicality of it all and not on the cold-hot-fire running in her body or the way she could hear her teeth chattering together as she tried to parse whether she was feeling cold or hot.

“Are you still listening to me, dear?”

She blinked again and realized she had closed her eyes at some point. The figure on the opening had moved — closer, she thought —, and she could more or less see it, now. It looked… female. The voice sounded female, too, she supposed, and strangely familiar, but it was good to have some confirmation it _wasn’t_ one of the aliens who’d…

She gasped, straining to move forwards only to flop uselessly, hitting her elbow and knees on all the wrong places. She cried out, quite unwittingly, but pushed through, forcing herself to form _words_ , real words, this time around the sharp pain thankfully helping her push through those last few barriers.

“M-My friends!” her mouth was so _dry_. Whatever it was they had used on her, she better find it out and _destroy it_. “They… they ok?”

The woman on the door paused, and the Doctor dreaded the worst, for a moment…

“I saw your TARDIS.” The woman answered, instead. Why did she know her TARDIS? The word? How did she know it was _the Doctor’s_? “I saw no humans, though. Were they supposed to be there?”

She breathed out and remembered, relieved, that they weren’t. She’d been alone, after all. She allowed her eyes to fall close again. “No, you’re right. They’re… no. Thank you.”

She breathed in silence — or maybe it wasn’t silence? She thought she could hear some sort of buzz, some sort of hum, some sort of _something_ , but she couldn’t bring herself to listen to it, not when her hearts were audible enough to deafen everything else, and her limbs were finally returning to life, full of shakes and _ice_ , and she felt so dreadfully _alive_.

“Right.”

She stirred out of her own mind to the sound of the woman’s voice and the loud clank of metal on metal. She opened her eyes, and the woman was right _there_ , in front of her, looming tall and larger than life, and hands — so warm, so full of _fire_ , touched her face, and she shivered and pulled away; then, slowly, she pushed herself back against it, feeling relief run through her body at the touch.

“Thanks,” she croaked, knowing this woman didn’t _have_ to save her. She was just a stranger, after all.

There was a sound not unlike a laugh, or maybe a choked sob, and the hands on her face pressed harder against her, feeling _too hot_ , and not nearly enough, and she closed her eyes again, letting herself breath.

The smell. The smell was… was _familiar_. It was… time and dust and…

She felt the hand pull away from her face, and keened loudly, arching to try and find it again, but it returned swiftly, reaching for her too numb hands and pulling her up.

This close, the smell was unmistakable.

Time. Dust. Space.

_Home_.

She opened her eyes, and sharp grey ones stared back at her.

“Who…” she murmured, but she knew. Deep down, she knew.

Lips that seemed quite red in the bad light of the place spread in a terrible smile.

“I am just returning the favour, _dear_.”

She wanted to protest, wanted to _ask more_ , wanted to be _absolutely sure_ …

She felt herself move, and pain spread through her like nothing before, and she screamed, darkness taking over her mind.

Distantly, she thought she heard a whispery voice, murmuring something that sounded a lot like a long forgotten name…

It might as well be all a dream, for the quickness she fell under.

**.**

She woke much better, this time around. She wasn’t feeling _perfect_ just yet, but, at least, she didn’t feel like dying of cold, either? Or burning up into flames. So, improvement! She giggled a bit — and started coughing a second later, groaning when she felt both the laugh and the coughs put strain on her throat.

“Nice to see you up, dear.”

_Her!_

She sat up — too quickly, she realized dizzily, raising a hand to her brow and pressing with quite some force, trying to stop the spin of the universe around her.

“Now, now, don’t you rush anywhere. I am staying here for some while, yet.”

_Ugh_. She hated that tone. It always reminded her of the Academy and being told to shut the fuck up. It wasn’t quite a pleasant memory, really. Still, she pried one eye open slowly, testing the waters and, when the light didn’t make her headache any worse, she opened the other, too.

Sitting in front of her, legs crossed on her thighs, was The Woman. The woman from her cell, she could notice by her voice. More importantly, though, _the woman from the ball_. All sharp eyes and promising grins. Red lips and dark hair. The woman who smelled like _home_.

“ _Missy_.” She breathed out, not daring hope, but knowing there were only two options, and one of them…

“Mm.” Missy hummed, thoughtfully, tilting her chin up to look down at her from beneath heavy lids. The Doctor hated it. That expression. That twitch on the corner of her lips. That careful drawl to her voice. “I dare say it does quite suit me, yet, doesn’t it?” The way her own hearts still raced, frightened and _delighted_ , in her chest.

“Why…” She swallowed, the sound too loud to her own ears, and she feared Missy would be able to hear the click in the catch of her throat.

“I do not think we are quite in the right place for that, do you, dear?”

Only then did the Doctor look around — _actually_ look. They weren’t in the cell she had last woken, anymore, but they weren’t in her TARDIS either. Instead, the air here still smelled like the planet she had stepped down on with her friends, and the taste of the room was a bit like the one from the cell, too.

She was out of the immediate fire ( _quite literally, too_ , she thought, staring at her fingers who finally seemed stable), but not out of the pan.

“We _will_ talk, though?” She asked, refusing to think of the alternative.

Missy sighed quite dramatically, but nodded, curls bobbing on the right side with her movement. “As you wish, dear.”

Her (traitorous, _traitorous_ ) hearts fluttered in her chest, beating a familiar tune of fear, hope, grudge.

“Well, then. Do you have my sonic?” She asked, smiling hopefully. She’d _hate_ to have to build _another_ one.

One of Missy’s hands dipped into one of her jacket’s pockets (leather jacket. It… suited her. Very well. _Really_ well. She swallowed hard and avoided her eyes), and took out the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver, dangling it around with two fingers.

“This one?”

She leaned forward, almost falling when the movement sent a rush of light headedness into her whole body. A hand supported her, though, before she could finish the motion, and she smiled before she took it in completely, recognizing the touch in her shoulder as something to trust.

“Thanks. Gimme, gimme here!” She made grabbing hands for the sonic, staring with her best pleading eyes at Missy. “Also, where are we?”

Missy’s responding snort sent a soft flutter of air into the Doctor’s hair, making her hearts stutter for one second, and her voice resonated too close to the Doctor’s ears, a comforting rasp of something husky and warm that differed so much from her last two voices.

“Of course you’d rather have your _sonic_ ,” she murmured, a tease in her voice tingling in the Doctor’s senses. “Than know where you are.”

She waited, knowing that Missy was fond of grandstanding and flourishes, but also favourable to _boasting_.

A minute and four beats later, Missy sighed, but allowed. “We are in a different room of the Gherrians house. You were in the basement when I found you. Now, we are in one of the bedrooms.”

She remembered the book owner’s anger, and the pain in her nape, and just… couldn’t see it. “How?”

“ _Well_ ,” Missy chuckled, light. “I _might_ have followed you, when I saw you in town. You were not nearly as inconspicuous as you thought, dear. Of course, I do believe you realized that, when you were kidnapped for being recognized as The Doctor.”

She grimaced, feeling the heat of a flush in her cheeks and despising how expressive this face was for the hundredth time. “Didn’t _mean_ to…” she grumbled, shuffling backwards so she could see Missy’s face, even if she _did_ want to just… melt into Missy’s arms, after the last time they’d…

Thankfully, the hand in her shoulder does not retreat, remaining a comforting point of contact against her own skin.

“Yes, I did not think you _had_. Still, when you bundle off a TARDIS with a broken chameleon circuit and makes _no attempt_ at hiding who you are, you are bound to find some enemies, don’t you think?”

It was… true enough.

She grinned, ducking her head once before returning her stare to Missy’s face.

“Well. So, we’re still in probable-enemies’ territory. What do you want to do?” The Doctor asked. It was both a test and an olive branch, if she were being sincere.

(She almost never was)

“I do not believe you’d like to kill them, would you?” Missy offered with an amount of levity that did not suit her words. Still, when all the Doctor did was stare at her pointedly, she _did_ change her tone to something more serious, more grounded. “I cannot let them walk away free, after what they have done to you, dear. They _did_ intend on using you on some… rather shady experiment to… take their world back, I believe? I don’t believe they were quite sure on what to do with you themselves, either.”

“You cannot _kill_ them, either.” She reminded her friend (her oldest, most… well. Her oldest friend). “They deserve a second chance.” She wavered, for one moment, about whether she should add it or not, but being around Missy was a lot like being drunk off her human friends. “ _Everyone_ deserves a second chance.”

It took them too long, too many heartsbeats that echoed silently among them…

Missy nodded.

“Very well. Your plan.”

The Doctor grinned, and counted her victories in the leaps of her hearts.

**.**

Working with someone she trusted was always best. Working with Missy (the Master, her oldest friend) always gave her a thrill she craved the most, despite herself.

“Oh, Doctor,” crooned Missy as they ran down the roads of the small town, wind whipping in their hairs and yells echoing behind them. “You are always so utterly _chaotic_.”

The Doctor flushed — but her hearts soared with pleasure, as well as the embarrassment she had expected to feel. “I don’t _mean_ to…”

“Yes. That’s even better, dear,” laughed Missy, voice bouncing over them with glee. “You are so incredibly _earnest_ , yet you always cause so much _trouble_ , everywhere you go.”

“Hey!” She took offense to that! “I do not _always_ cause the trouble. Sometimes I simply _find_ it!”

They turned the corner, the Doctor’s sides in stitches from the run after such a harsh attack, but the adrenaline in her veins made her more excited than anything. She would likely crash for _days_ after this, but it was worth it.

“C’mon, I’m seeing my TARDIS!” She exclaimed, even though Missy was totally in front of her, longer legs closing the distance between them and her familiar blue box easily. She turned her eyes back, to the sight of a dark sky and aliens screaming at the sky, long fangs just barely visible under the moonlight. “And hurry!”

Not a minute too soon, she crashed into a warm back, and they buckled against wooden doors that snapped open at her hurried snap of fingers.

Missy recovered first, getting back to her feet and even managing to grab a hold of the Doctor’s hands as she laid on the floor panting, and the Doctor barely remembered to snap the doors shut again.

“So… thanks?” she giggled, feeling high and feverish, though the drugs had long left her system, by now. “That was fun.”

The warm hands continued wound tight around her wrists, fingernails digging terribly unfamiliar in her skin under her shirt and jacket’s sleeves.

“It was.” Missy’s warm voice reached her, and she opened her eyes to see Missy, hovering directly over her face. Missy’s new face was… very beautiful, just as she first thought, in that…

That ballroom.

Reality crashed into her like cold water, and she pulled her arms back to herself, sitting up on her own, putting her back to Missy.

“Thanks for the rescue.” She said, clipped. “If you want a lift to your TARDIS, I’ll get you there. I don’t think we’ll be quite welcome in this planet for a while.”

She felt more than she heard Missy’s responding sigh, and for a moment she thought there would be a hand in her shoulders…

But, no. Nothing. Instead, echoing footsteps, moving away from her, and she was left breathing deeply by the doors of her own TARDIS, too much information circling around in her mind at once.

“Missy…” she called, when the silence grew to be too much.

“I will take us there. We can grab my TARDIS on the way out, and then…” she waited, breath halted, for the dreaded words. They never came. Instead… instead, she barely dared hope, but… “Then, we can talk.”

She breathed out, trembling, and nodded, quiet.

“Yes. I’d… I’d like that.” She murmured, hearts heavy and throat closed. For one moment, she feared the drugs were coming back. Feared she’d throw up, or burn to death and end up regenerating, or…

But, no. This was all just her. Just her body and Missy.

It felt awful; it felt much worse than breaking out of a trap with her body rebelling against her. Worse than pointing a weapon against a people she had already failed once and threatening them for the sake of… of _justice_ … worse than taking zeir guns and destroying them, when she knew they were all that stood between zem and zeir enemies. Worse than being _included_ in that list of enemies. Worse than having to tell zem that there was no way at _all_ to save their planet, because that had become a Fixed Point.

It also felt much better. Even better than having zem realize zey had done the wrong choice, kidnapping her (and planning on torturing her into agreeing with zeir plan), instead of asking for her _help_ (not that she would be _able_ to help zem. Not with what zey _wanted_. But she could always do _something_ ). Better than having zem actually _allow_ them to escape (even if zey _did_ run after them, after zey realized the weapons used to scare zem had been nothing more than strange radios). Better than running for her life.

She hated this feeling. Hated feeling like this for _Missy_.

She also utterly _loved it_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll... likely change my update schedule to 3 times a week, yay. So, MON, WED and SAT!


	5. i never wanted anything from you (except everything you had)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Missy talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst and whump continues. Buckle up. But, the Doctor and Missy _do_ talk about things they had to talk about for _ages_ now, so, there.  
> (Including in this “talk”: Bill, the Mondasian Ship, The Doctor’s Stand - and subsequent fall -, and Missy’s regeneration. So, very angsty and also much discussion of the last episode of Season 10, “The Doctor Falls”)
> 
> Oh, right, there’s some part entirely in _italics_ that is supposed to be thoughts/memories shared. We don’t see it in this chapter, I don’t think, but shared thought that is supposed to be somewhat of a conversation appears _:like this:_ , just saying.
> 
> **Disclaimer: DW, characters? What? Mine? Nope. So, song of the time is “Dog Days Are Over” by Florence + the Machine.**  
>  _(thought this part of the lyrics to be terribly clever, ok? Thanks)_

**Chapter 5**

Hurtling the TARDIS into the vortex of time was the easier thing she’d ever done. Even half-shaky from the last few remnants of the drugs that had crashed on her _hard_ after her adrenaline high, the Doctor managed to do it without any help. She didn’t put on any of her usual flare to it, either, but then, there was no one here to watch her.

Just Missy.

Once she could feel the tantalizing and oh-so familiar pull of time and space in her mind, she breathed out easily, and finally allowed herself to sink to the ground. By her feet, she could see the grating she had taken off just a week ago, now, when… well. When she first saw Missy. This Missy. It was a disturbingly grounding thought.

“Talk.” She said. She refused to allow her voice to become pleading, but they both knew that was exactly what she was doing. Pleading. For her friend. For the person she had once been.

There was a moment of pause, then the Doctor could hear Missy’s sigh and footsteps getting closer. Not long after, the Doctor could see a pair of heavy boots entering her sight line, as well as jeans clad long legs. The sight of neither was particularly familiar to her, not yet, but it was still somewhat of a comfort, seeing evidence that she wasn’t _alone_.

( _Also_ , she realized with a small grin. _This Missy dressed_ a lot _like Ears._ )

“What do you want to know, Doctor?” Missy asked, voice lacking all the sweetened tones she used to have in her last face or the anger she held tight to for so long before that. Even the husky rasp she had presented just earlier this day was gone, leaving behind just a bit of huskiness that seemed natural to her new face, and the smallest hint of charm she had woven so expertly in the ballroom they first saw each other.

“Everything.” She replied instantly. Blinking, she allowed. “How are you even here? I thought… at first, I thought you had _abandoned me_. Completely. But then… I felt… I felt you _die_ , Missy. I felt… Of course, I never went back, since I was kind of… _preoccupied_ , and decided that maybe you just… left me behind, again. To my death. Yet, here you are. A new face.”

_Again_.

Those long legs bent, knees touching the ground in front of her, and the Doctor hadn’t even realized she was trembling until firmer hands were closing around her own, and she swallowed hard, trying to control her physical responses.

“I never intended to let you die alone, Doctor.” Missy murmured, sounding too close and too far away at the same time. “I _intended_ to return for you. I just needed… well. I needed to regenerate. Into… into past me.”

She raised her eyes from their linked hands, finding those growingly familiar grey eyes staring unblinkingly at her, specks of gold mixed in, and she wondered how she had managed not to notice it the first time.

“I never planned on leaving you to die alone, I _swear_.” She said, voice falling to a growl with her intensity. “I made my choice back in that ship, dear. I made my choice when you first allowed me to leave with you, when you trusted me with the life of your pet. Even if I _did_ waver a bit, seeing…” She swallowed visibly under the Doctor’s eyes, and the Doctor forced herself to look back up, tracing angles she didn’t know and quirks that she wanted to grow familiar with. Missy shook her head, and the Doctor focused back on her words. “You gave me everything I could want, and I promised myself… I wouldn’t allow it all to go to waste. Not this time.”

The Doctor’s hearts swelled up so much they barely fit in her chest, and she forced herself to speak through them, anyway. “But you did. You sided with… with yourself, and you let Bill be transformed into a _Cyberman_ , and…”

“And that was all in the past, dear.” Missy chided, softly. “You always knew _exactly_ what I had done, in the past. What was the difference? Just because I was _also_ there doesn’t change the fact I _wasn’t_ the one to do those things. They were all done already, before I was even born.”

It was true. It hurt and sent ice through her veins to think about even now, but it was _true_. _Missy_ had done nothing. The Master was the one to do everything.

And the Doctor _had_ always known exactly what he was capable of. Had experienced it first handed, even.

“I _pleaded_ for you to stay. I just… I just wanted my _friend_.” _No reward. No hope._ Just a friend. “I just wanted to have a…” _a star to look at_ , “a hand to hold when I was dying. I just wanted a reason to… to live on.”

Missy’s breathe felt just the tiniest bit stuttered against her face, after she finished her admission.

“I know.” Missy murmured, hands clenching around her own before letting her go. The Doctor watched, hearts growing cold, as she rose from her knees, standing tall — _too_ tall — over her, instead.

Steps echoed again as Missy walked away, and the Doctor scrambled up, trying to grab her wrist before she could even think about it.

“No!”

Missy stopped, halfway in the way to her TARDIS, parked with silent judgment in the corner of the console room.

“Don’t you… don’t you turn your back on me. I am talking to you. I am…” she muttered, half mad, half feverish. She felt like she was stuck in that ship once again, knowing she was dying and there was nothing to do about it. Like she was burning inside from something she could no longer hold off, and everything she held dear was slipping through her fingers even as she watched. “Don’t…”

Missy turned around. For a moment, the Doctor couldn’t see her, though. She wasn’t _Missy_ , after all. She wasn’t… wasn’t…

A hand touched her cheek, and it was cold, too cold, too cold…

“Oh dear.”

She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, and leaned forwards, finding a soft, icy body to support her.

“Don’t you… leave me…” she pleaded, soft.

Darkness took her.

**.**

She woke up lying on her own bed. She could recognize it easily enough, thankfully, and did not lurch away from it reflexively, this time around, so she managed to save herself some more minutes of embarrassment, seeing how she felt so weak she was sure she’d flail right into the ground.

Instead, she took those moments of quiet and security she had just afforded herself and stopped to _think_. Really think, for once in… days.

Missy was alive. The Master was alive. _Koschei_ was alive. After everything, they were still alive. Still kicking, just as always. She didn’t even know why she’d thought they’d died; they _never_ did. They were… they were masters over death, were they not?

But… the Doctor had felt them die. Felt their energy burning away hauntingly in the back of his mind, as he lay on the ground dying. It had been one of the reasons he’d refused to regenerate, after all; he hadn’t wanted to live on _alone_. The Last of the Time Lords, even when Gallifrey was back on this universe.

But instead of dying like had been hinted, like the Doctor had felt them doing, here they were. Alive and… and playing her?

Or… dare she think it?

“You know, dear, you are thinking loud enough for me to feel it all the way on your kitchen.”

She startled enough to lose the last remnants of her thought process, but it was enough.

They had stayed, after all. With her.

“Hello, Missy.” She murmured, smiling as she opened her eyes.

Missy was leaning over her bed, hair pulled into a braid over her right shoulder, but otherwise unchanged from before the Doctor… passed away. _Again_.

“Sorry?” She asked, grimacing with a flush.

“Oh, the TARDIS has assured me you are completely healed, now. It seems like the drugs had not run their course completely yet, and all the running made it… resurge. The TARDIS’s psychic wards fended them off, though. Thus the ‘you are now healed.’” Missy explained, lips pulled taut and nose looking terribly beaky from this angle. “You should have told me, though. What if the TARDIS had failed in healing you on her own?”

The Doctor felt her lips pulling into a bigger smile at Missy’s use of ‘her’ as she talked about Sexy, knowing she had never quite liked acknowledging the TARDISes’s living status.

“Thank you for staying with me.” She said, diplomatically, instead of making fun of her friend’s defeat.

“Well. Our conversation hadn’t been quite complete, had it?” Missy answered with a haughty sniff.

She laughed, but it echoed strangely inside. She remembered Missy walking away, and she remembered her own words quite well, unfortunately.

They weren’t _in_ sincere. They were just… unwilling, perhaps.

“I mourned you.” She admitted, deciding she had little pride left, anyway. “When I regenerated… and properly admitted you weren’t coming back… I _mourned_ you, Missy. I mourned my friend.”

Those red lips parted with a silent sigh, and one of Missy’s hands found its way into the Doctor’s elbow. “I know. I am sorry about that, but I needed some time. I…”

She paused, and the Doctor watched her, intent on knowing every single thing about this regeneration, knowing whether this face of theirs was more of her friend she met eons ago or the enemy she faced against for so long.

For now, she’d be betting on her friend.

“I killed myself, Doctor.” She admitted, voice resonating flat in the silence where the Doctor could hear only her own heartsbeats. “Twice in the span of less than ten minutes. Just because I wanted to _stand with you_.”

_Oh_. Despite herself, she felt her hearts clench. The Doctor had felt… awful, at some points, but to _kill herself_ … that was…

And _Missy_. The Master, who fancied themself above the act of dying?

“I loved being him, you know.” Missy continued, licking her bottom lip. “He was so full of rage and _passion_. He burned brighter than any other body I ever held… and in the end, I was so filled with rage I consumed myself. He refused to stand with you. And I refused to let him stand in my way. I refused to let you…” She closed her eyes, coughing delicately. “Anyway. It was… a moment of mutual destruction.”

The Doctor raised her free hand, touching Missy’s own hand with hers. Missy would never do anything as _uncouth_ as trembling, but she felt cold under her touch, and this time, it had nothing to do with the Doctor’s fever.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, rubbing at her wrist under the leather jacket.

For one moment, it seemed like Missy would start crying in front of her. The Doctor would have never thought that possible, but then, she still remembered a moment between the two, a moment where she had dared hope her friend was finally returning to her…

The moment passed.

“Yes, well. He failed, didn’t he? He never intended for me to survive his attack.” Missy huffed, tossing her braid back over her shoulder with a shake of her head. Her eyes were still slightly misty, but no tear fell from them. “Yet, here I am. Very much alive.”

The Doctor was still torn about it, as she always was about anything relating to the Master, but she was also thankful for it. She admitted so, too. “And I’m glad you did.”

They held silence, both waiting for the other to take the next step. Unexpectedly, it came from Missy.

The Doctor flinched back reflexively, staring with wide eyes at Missy’s face as she felt the gentle pressure in her mind of Missy trying to get inside, or… or pull _her_ inside _her own_ mind.

Slowly, still unsure whether this was wise or not, the Doctor lowered her mind shields.

_Darkness and pain. A shot to the back was such a petty move. She laid there, incapable of moving, and thought of the words that had pulled at her, in the first place._

**_‘What would you die for?’_ ** _Well, Doctor, would you look at that…_

_She blinked, slowly; was her sight going bad or was there a sun burning in the air ahead of her? No… no sun. There were no stars here, after all… no stars in a spaceship…_

_There was a lurch in the air, and she knew her past self had moved on. Away from her, to die into her._

_Finally._

_She closed her eyes, and held tight to the small burst of life burning weakly inside of her chest._

**_Without hope. Without witness. Without reward._ **

_‘I am your friend,’ she had said once._

_She hoped it was still true._

She pulled away with a shaky breath, blinking tears that had jumped into her eyes at some point in the middle of so many swirling thoughts and emotions.

“Is it?” She asked, weakly. Half a heartsbeat later, she worried she might have to specify her question some more.

She didn’t need worry. This was Koschei, after all.

“I’d like to think so.”

She nodded, clenching her hand even tighter around Missy’s own.

“Well. Then… would you like to try again? With some witness, perhaps, this time.”

Missy’s answering laugh sounded as wet as her own voice, and she quirked a smile at hearing it. “900 years more in the Vault, dear?”

She _could_ …

But. “Not this time. I don’t see the body I was supposed to look after, do you?”

Missy’s laughter was so different from what she was familiar with, yet she could still feel Missy in her mind, soft and amused and _yearning_. “Well. Then I’d hate to prove you right.”

The Doctor smiled warmly. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be proving me right either way, Kosch.” She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of her oldest friend. “I always did hope you would return to me, after all.”

She was almost falling back asleep, Missy a humming presence by her side, when she remembered something she had been thinking the whole time since she realized who this woman was.

“Ah,” she forced her eyes open, wanting to watch her reaction. “Congratulations, Kosch. You’re taller than me at last.”

Missy’s laughter was still as throaty and adorable as the first time the Doctor heard it, and she vowed to make her friend laugh many times more because it simply _suited her_. Too well, perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you survive past that?  
> So, hey, at least next chapter is fluffy! And nice! And this will continue like that for 3 more chapters! (Well, the angst comes back in chapter 9. You decide how many chapters that is)


	6. you don't know me (and i'll never be what you want me to be)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, they don't run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is not nearly as angsty as the title makes it sound, I promise. It’s actually kind of… hopeful. Which is me talk for “I could have made it more angsty, but I withheld myself!”  
> Also, you might be seeing a pattern. It’s completely on purpose! Well, at least it is if it’s the one pattern I intended to exist… anyway!
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. The song of the time is “I’m Still Here” by Goo Goo Dolls.**   
>  _(have you realized yet that these comments are absolutely useless and generally just about the song of the time? Yes? Great! So, this song, I was reading the lyrics and realized it fit Missy a lot? So, it is now Missy’s theme song for this story!)_

**Chapter 6**

“You know,” the Doctor mentioned, stretching lazily as she stepped into the already inhabited kitchen. She paused for a yawn, and almost stumbled as she dragged her feet on too slippery ground. “For not needing half as much sleep, I’ve spent _way_ too much time out of it, this past day.”

_And waking up disoriented,_ she added to herself.

She’d woken up in the very same place she’d last gone to sleep, at least, but… she’d woken up alone, and she’d feared, for a hearts breaking moment, that it had all been a dream. That Missy was still dead. Or, worse, that she’d never returned to the Doctor at all, despite being alive.

(She felt guilty for thinking that, but she had always been terribly selfish, too)

Then, she’d reached out desperately to her TARDIS, needing some comfort and a familiar presence, and had found another buzz of activity against her mind. Something dearly needed, at that, and she’d relaxed instantly. It hadn’t been a dream, after all.

She still had rushed out her room much quicker than needed, not even taking the time to change clothes. Now, standing here in her PJ’s with her hair mussed, though, she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it.

Especially not when her company looked like _that_.

“Good morning, dear,” answered Missy lazily, raising a cup in greeting. For once, she seemed to be wearing no make-up, and her hair was tossed wildly over her shoulders. She looked both younger and much older at this moment, and the Doctor treasured every single minute of it. “Tea?”

The Doctor sniffed the air carefully — it smelled… sweet, but not nearly enough. Still, she nodded, shuffling closer to the table with a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Missy.” She said, as a warm cup was pressed against her hands, a bit of steam flowing upwards from it.

She sipped at it cautiously, and lowered it with a grimace. “Yeah, no.” She reached out, and found a honey jar being pressed into her hand before she could even ask for it. She raised her eyes, and there Missy was, hiding a grin beneath her own cup, eyebrows raised challenging. “Thanks.”

She poured a generous amount of honey into her tea, ignoring Missy’s snort and focused eyes. So what if she craved sweets in this body? It was much better than _fish fingers and custards_!

She took another sip and nodded.

“You know, dear, you are lucky we don’t suffer from half the problems that hit your darling pets.” Missy clicked her tongue loudly, and the Doctor felt a sock-covered foot dragging over her legs briefly. “If we did, you would spend most of your time needing to be… _repaired_.”

The Doctor glared one-heartedly at her friend, too busy drinking her tea to think of a response to that. Still, when Missy chuckled, voice still hoarse from sleep and face all soft from letting her defences down, the Doctor couldn’t help herself, and sent through a small flicker in her direction, pushing a bit against the presence that hovered there constantly, testing and waiting.

Missy’s shields allowed her _marvellously_.

She hid her own grin behind her cup, looking down so she wouldn’t see Missy’s face. She didn’t think they were quite at that point, not yet. But it was good to know they _could_ be. At some point, at least.

And then, Missy went and snapped back at her, the feeling alike that of a wolf snapping its jaws at you, and the Doctor grimaced lightly.

Right. Guess she was waking up properly, then.

“Out my head, _Doctor_.” Missy said, a clear threat in her voice as she narrowed her eyes. “Or you won’t be liking what you get.”

The Doctor allowed, tilting her head in a mockery of a nod, and kept quiet for the next couple minutes, thinking of her own problems, instead.

Missy was here. Missy was _back_. And the Doctor… she _really_ wanted it to work. With Missy. By her side, preferentially. After all, Missy was… was the first one to be _like her_. The first one to…

The Doctor just really, really wanted them to _work_ this time. After all those centuries fighting, she just wanted to be… Theta Sigma and Koschei yet again. Best friends against the universe. Best friends, out to _see_ the universe.

Before she fucked it all up. Before she…

“Stop sulking, dear, or I will have to start a war somewhere to snap you out of it.”

“Hey!” She exclaimed back, returning to the present full force. Of course, Missy was smirking at her with a mouth full of teeth, and was _likely_ joking, but. “One does not joke about this kind of things!”

Missy hummed cheerfully, and the Doctor knew that, whatever had possessed them into being so damn _open_ the last day, it was gone. Now, they were back to being their bloody obnoxious self, full of smirks and deadly edges hidden beneath a sweet and husky voice.

“Who says I was kidding, dear?” She wondered idly, lips pulled into a smile and eyes heavy, focused on the general level of the Doctor’s nose. “I might as well start _something_ if I won’t be given your attention, don’t you think? After all, I must prove you wrong, still.”

The Doctor scoffed, easily falling back into old habits. “Yeah? And how’s that gonna prove me _wrong_?”

Missy leaned forwards, dark hair falling over sharp grey eyes, “Well. Weren’t it you who said I was… _reformed_ , dear? A… _‘good girl’_ at last?”

She inclined her head minutely. “I also remember saying you had failed. Remember? When Bill accused me of siding with you, when you made her a _monster_?”

Missy grinned like the cat who’d gotten the canary and leaned back, once again, fingers tapping idly on her teacup. “Oh, yes. But, at the end, weren’t you so _sure_ I was good? That I would stand… that I would _fall_ … with you? You even said so yourself, last night: you were always full of _hope_.”

The Doctor flushed, but grinned broadly. “Well. If I did, I’d _love_ to prove _you_ wrong, then. I am _always_ right, after all.”

They both silently agreed to ignore their moments of weakness. The moment when the Doctor had called her a traitor and said that if she walked away now, she better not return; the moment where the pain in his hearts had screamed at her that if she turned her back, _they’d never be friends again_. The moment where Missy had promised her to prove her wrong because she _wanted_ them to be friends again.

Those were slippery things, after all. Hope and despair woven together. Things that were best left in the dark, when their hearts were plummeting heavy with guilt and longing.

_One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four_ … She opened eyes she hadn’t realized she had closed, and saw Missy’s manicured fingernails tapping that hideous, lovely rhythm on the porcelain cup. In her mind, she remembered the Master’s broken plea ( _Listen!_ ); in her chest, her hearts soared up, taking over the song. Their very own four-beat melody, just for the two of them.

She wanted it to last. She should not dare hope for it, but then, she had always been the hoper of far-flung hopes, had she not? The optimist of the two of them.

She tapped them back, _one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four_ , and pretended not to see Missy’s softening eyes.

**.**

Reality had to crash into them at some point. This time, it came when Missy whined about wanting _something_ to do, and the Doctor had, reflexively, answered with, “We can go see this planet where the flowers bloom just during the nights and smell like stardust. It’s really pretty, and I think you’d like the…” before realizing she wasn’t talking to one of her human friends, but to _Missy_.

Missy, who knew almost as much of the universe as she did, and who had tried to destroy at least a third of it.

“Right. Sorry.” She muttered, falling silent.

Missy’s footsteps were purposefully loud as she approached, heels clicking on the metal grates under the console before her longer hands fell into sight by the Doctor’s own, just distant enough not to brush, but still close enough to be _there_.

“I am not one of your pets, Doctor.” Missy reminded, voice sharp but not particularly belligerent. “I don’t care for being traipsed around like a stupid little ape being given the _gift_ of seeing the universe for the first time. You are not doing me any _favours_. If I want, I _can_ take my own TARDIS back, right this instant, and leave you behind. See whatever I want to see, do whatever I want to do.”

The Doctor _wanted_ to remember that. She did.

But she also wanted to show Missy the universe, simply because she _loved_ the universe. Because this was the silly old place where she grew, much more than the red fields where they once ran. This was the place they had sworn to traipse through, _together_ , so long ago.

And she also _didn’t_ want to remember that, because then she would constantly fear that Missy _would_ abandon her, after all. Just as she herself had done to her friend, so long ago.

“I would still like to bring you with to see something nice.” She answered, swallowing heavily. “Just… show you something good, for once. Without you trying to destroy it because you are _bored_. An adventure of our own.”

She expected a scoff, or maybe for Missy to storm off into her own TARDIS, like she’d threatened to do.

Instead, she got a thoughtful hum, and shoulders knocking against her lightly.

“I suppose I might allow you. Just this once. A… trial run, if you will.”

(They both deliberately did not mention their _last_ trial run.)

The Doctor grinned, feeling as if she were about to burst.

“ _And_ ,” added Missy sharply. “Just you and me. No one else.”

The Doctor nodded, head bobbing in excitement, and dared not turn to look at her, in fear of what might be showing in her own face.

The Doctor and the Master. Theta and Koschei. Just one more time.

She put her hand over the lever to hurtle the TARDIS away from the Time Vortex, and found Missy’s hand already there, warm under hers.

“Together.” She thought someone murmured. She wasn’t sure which one of them it was.

Her hearts soared, anyway, and her feet were the lighter they had felt in _ages_ as they pulled the lever together.

There was no reason to put up any pretence, but the Doctor _did_ enjoy flying her TARDIS as she usually did. Half crazed and more than half _hopeful_ , letting it all up to fate. Fortunately, Missy seemed to be on a good mood still, and when the Doctor passed her though, spinning and laughing, Missy’s hand caught on her wrist, pulling her along in an impromptu dance that left them both breathless, reminding the Doctor that Koschei had always loved music and dancing.

It was good to have her friend back.

She just hoped she wouldn’t screw it all up, _again_.

“Calm yourself, dear,” Missy murmured against her brow as they stumbled against the TARDIS’s doors, her old girl lurching to a stop on a planet she hoped would be interesting. “I am here.”

_For now_ , the Doctor thought. She grinned anyway.

“Yes. Yes, you are.” She agreed, nodding against Missy’s chin. “Now, c’mon, I think I promised you an adventure?”

Missy’s hands on her waist lingered for longer than absolutely necessary, and the Doctor held still, waiting.

They stepped back, falling apart with quiet brushes of minds that told them absolutely nothing, but also meant _the entire galaxy_.

“Well. Lead the way, then.” Missy prompted, waving imperiously at the door.

_Thank you_ , she projected lightly for her friend.

“Hopefully, we’ll be in a war timezone.” Missy added, a mischievous glint in her eyes and with lips pulled to expose her teeth.

The Doctor wanted to be angry.

Instead, she just felt like she was still dreaming; like all of this was just a lazy dream she was having while her friends slumbered on, and that she was going to wake up at any moment now, and Missy would be gone, and she would be _alone_ , again, The Last of the Time Lords, and…

She tossed the doors open.

_If this was all a dream,_ she told herself firmly, _she wanted to enjoy it to the last moment possible_.

And, anyway.

She had never dreamt of bloody _yeti-mermaids or a snoring war_ before.

(And, if she had, she’d never had dreamt Missy there _with her_. By her side. Helping her stop the war, and heal the mermaids. Yetis. Yeti-mermaids. Instead, if Missy had _ever_ appeared at _that_ dream, she’d likely be… well. The one responsible for all of this.

Missy seemed to agree with her, too, from the way she laughed herself silly and tried to make the war go on for even longer, before the Doctor turned on her and they ended up in a yelling match that woke up every single person involved in the snore-match and thus ended the conflict quite accidentally.

Missy was amused. The Doctor was _done_. They both ran like hell back to the TARDIS as the mermaids decided they had put an end to the best amusement of the _century_.

The Doctor still maintained she couldn’t have _known_ the so called “snore war” was quite harmless!)

(And then, Missy reached out in the TARDIS, tentatively, her voice a small buzz in the Doctor’s head, and she was _quite sure_ it was not a dream, after all.)


	7. i'll only hurt you if you let me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You break it, you fix it. At least Missy seems to know a TARDIS better than the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I promise the chapter isn’t as angsty as the title makes it sound. It’s actually a bit of a comedy, this one. And the wrapping up of the small plot-like thing I had been mentioning on previous chapters, about the cooling system of the TARDIS. Because I wanted a chapter of the two of them fixing the TARDIS together, so I built it up before the time until, well, this chapter.  
> (Because I have a thing for the Doctor and the Master fixing the TARDIS together)  
> (Oh yeah, there’s a small reference to the Doctor’s past in Gallifrey in this chapter, so lemme give a blanket comment here: I have no idea wtf happened in the Doctor’s past. Not only have I only ever watched New Who, but everything I read on the Doctor’s past seem terribly contradictory?!)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. The song of the time is “When The Party is Over” by Billie Eilish.  
>  _(this one was the hardest chapter to name, the fuck. Still, like this song, so, there you go!)_**

**Chapter 7**

Things were _great_ going, and the Doctor was restless. She had her friend back, she wasn’t in any particular danger at the moment, she was even _happy_ …

So, of course, she was afraid, and needed time to _think_ before her mind gave up on her. Thus, the TARDIS. Her oldest, most faithful companion. Her old girl was always the one to take the brunt of her restlessness, and it wasn’t any different this time.

Thankfully, it was even _needed_ , and it was not just her tinkering about until she either broke something or _found_ something (with much hope).

“C’mon, Sexy,” she wheedled, caressing the console comfortingly. “I _know_ you were supposed to keep the temperature better than this. We talked about it.”

The old girl whirred lazily in her mind, her constant companion in times of boredom, anger, fear and joy.

“I thought it was just because of Graham — I mean, he’s older, and I heard older humans don’t take to the cold quite as well as younger humans —, but he’s not here, right now. _And_ , even _he_ complained about it being too hot here!” She continued, dropping to her knees when no answer was forthcoming. Not that she particularly expected an answer; her Sexy could be as stubborn as a mule, when she wanted to be. “Help me out here.”

The grate lifted quite easily under her hands, and she put it to the side, supported against the console. They were floating in the Vortex, again, so she doubted it would be jostled any time soon, which should give her time more than enough to work out her issues in her TARDIS.

Just as she was lowering herself through the vat, though, kicking lazily around to feel the way to the maintenance tunnel and not one of the many traps that seemed to build up on their own, she heard footsteps.

Her first instinct was to call out and tell her friends she was busy, _and could they wait just a second?_

Her second instinct was more useful, as she remembered her humans were still on Earth, and this was likely Missy coming to see her, but still tossed out her mind quickly when she remembered they were trying to _work on it_ , not fight _again_.

“Down here!” she called out, instead of the first two things that went through her mind.

The footsteps came around, and Missy crouched by her head, her own head cocked to the left and looking at her curiously. “What have you broken _this_ time, dear?”

The Doctor gasped dramatically, happy not to have gone with either of her instincts. “I did _not_! Break anything, I mean. I’m _fixing_ her.” She sniffed, lips pulling into a grin. “You know, the _opposite_?”

Missy snorted lightly. “Yes, well, dear, you are _awful_ at that.”

She pouted lightly, resting her head back and relaxing her hold on the grates of the TARDIS as she realized this was going to take a while. “I regret that. I fix my TARDIS all the time.”

Missy arched an eyebrow. “ _Yes_. Because you are constantly _breaking_ her.” She shook her head, hair kept in place by her messy bun. “What needs fixing _this_ time?”

The Doctor grimaced lightly, and admitted in a tone she knew would make her friend laugh at her. “The cooler. Heater. AC. Temperature-thingie.”

“ _Thingie._ ” Murmured Missy, red lips stretching into a teasing grin. “Glad to know your _technical names_ never change.” A double beat. “I had thought you _intended_ to leave the heater at this level. You always preferred places much too hot, from what I remember. Never understood quite how you withstood that, but then, you always _were_ half-mad.”

“No. Not this time.” The Doctor admitted, smiling back at her. “I don’t even know how it broke, this time. It just… stopped working, one day.”

Missy nodded, thoughtful, before getting back up to her feet. “Well. You getting out of there, then?”

She blinked slowly at her friend. “Huh?”

“You plan on fixing the Cooler Rotor, don’t you?” She nodded, quiet. “Then, I’d suggest you get to the _right place_.”

“Well… that _might_ explain it.” She admitted with a laugh. “I never quite maintained anything other than this… circuit… under the console. If it’s not _here_ …”

She pushed herself back up and out of the vat with lots of wiggling involved, kicking at some wires that seemed determined to entangle themselves around her legs and plonking down nosily on the floor to stare up at Missy, who was shaking her head amused.

“I don’t know how you have survived this long when you can’t even fix your own TARDIS, dear.” Murmured Missy gently, nudging her lightly with a booted foot. “Up you get, now.”

She turned around, walking away, and the Doctor scrambled to her feet, staring wide eyed and with her chest tight as Missy walked in the direction of her own TARDIS. Was she… but, it didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Come on. Don’t just stand there, gaping,” Missy chided, looking over her shoulder with a pointed look on her face. “I might have some extra parts in my TARDIS to help you. Maybe even a _manual_.”

The Doctor laughed, something choked and too loud, and followed her with unsteady steps. “You? A manual? I’d like to see _that_.”

Missy smiled easy as anything, and kept still until the Doctor was by her side. Only then did they return walking towards the second TARDIS, and the Doctor appreciated the gesture. She would like to believe Missy wouldn’t just _leave her_ like that, without saying anything, but she still feared it. She couldn’t quite help herself.

“Well, unlike _some_ , I _do_ read.” Missy sniffed haughtily, but the Doctor could see her lips pulling up a bit from the corner of her eyes. “And _I_ took classes on how to maintain a TARDIS.”

The Doctor tilted her head, allowing it.

Though, “Doesn’t change the fact you don’t know how to _pilot_ it, either.”

This time, Missy’s smile was large enough to show her teeth. “Yes, well. Priorities. There was this stupid boy I was searching for, you know.”

The Doctor laughed, her hearts feeling light for once at the mention of their first lives, and murmured, charmed, “Yes, I believe I do.”

**.**

The Doctor bit back a curse as she hit her toe on one of the many things littered on the ground, stumbling directly into Missy’s back.

“Sorry,” she muttered, backing up slightly and rubbing at her head.

Missy hummed noncommittally. “You know, Doctor, this would be easier if you did your maintenance around this place. Your TARDIS is already an old model, you certainly cannot afford to let it go to waste like this.”

The Doctor pouted slightly, but could not rebuke it. She certainly had never heard of this place before, and it’s hard to keep something you don’t know of working properly. Still, she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t say _something_.

“My TARDIS is an old girl, not an old _model_ ,” she corrected with a huff. “She’s perfectly _fine_ , thank you very much. And she’s certainly not going to go ‘to waste’ on me! Isn’t that right, Sexy?” She added to the TARDIS herself, projecting a pat as she couldn’t quite pat anything at the moment. Except Missy. She could pat Missy, if she wanted.

She kinda wanted to, but she did not pat Missy, for fear of dismemberment.

“Oh, you are such a sentimental old fool.” Missy taunted, a smirk clear in her voice. “What are you going to do, dear? Beg her into fixing itself?”

“If need be,” she muttered, side stepping one of fallen parts on the ground to finally reach the main circuit.

She took a moment to gap at it in silence; the circuit towered over the both of them, judging them with a wheezing whirring sound that the Doctor wasn’t sure was completely normal.

The Doctor would have thought that, between the Eye, the circuit beneath the console, the main engines, and the architectural reconfiguration system, there would be no reason for any _other_ circuits, but, here they were. With a _giant_ circuit.

She shook her head slowly, trying to focus on what was important.

“Right.” She muttered, and then repeated louder. “Right! Cooling system. It should be…” she trailed off. She had no _idea_ where it should be.

“Over here, dear,” called Missy with a laugh, stepping over to the other side. “On the very top.” She added, pointing out the small ladder that was fixed on the side of the… circuit… body.

“Of _course_ it is.” The Doctor grumbled, but she was smiling lightly. She had always liked a challenge, after all, and hiking _this_? Well. It was certainly _different_ , at the very least. “Well, then! After you!”

Missy snorted, hitching the bag with tools higher up her shoulder, and reached out for the ladder with her free hand.

She had changed to rattier clothes, with an old, dirty shirt that the Doctor was almost sure used to belong to one of their past regenerations (she couldn’t even tell whether it was the Master’s or her own, to be honest, but she _recognized_ it, so there was that), and an apron tossed over it.

The Doctor had laughed herself silly the first time she saw Missy with it because it was exactly the kind of cloth _she_ wore, and the Master had _always_ teased her about it. Missy had hit her on the head in retaliation, and the Doctor hadn’t cared a wink.

“Stop laughing and get up here, Doctor!” Missy called imperiously, sitting down on the small platform on top of the circuit, one leg dangling distractingly over the edge. “Chop, chop!”

She snorted again ( _chop, chop?_ _Really?_ _Missy?!_ ), but obeyed with a barely mock-like, “Aye, Sir!”

She felt a brush of _hot-amusement_ in her mind, and hid a small smile in response. She stumbled into the platform by Missy’s side, somehow still managing to knock onto her friend with her knees, despite not being all gangly and awkward anymore. Luckily, Missy didn’t seem to be in the mood to see her stumble her way down the circuit again, because she was grabbed by the straps of her own apron, pulled back to firm(er) ground just in time.

“Do try to keep yourself in one piece, yes?” Missy murmured, releasing her to open her bag. “I did not save you from homicidal aliens just for you to finish yourself off next chance you get.”

Very maturely, the Doctor stuck her tongue out at her, making sure to project it into Missy’s mind so she’d have no choice _but_ to see it. She was brushed aside with the equivalent of an eye roll, but from the simple fact she even received an answer, she knew she had got what she wanted.

They started working on the wires and… bitsies diligently. Or, well, Missy worked diligently, from what the Doctor could see, while she herself mostly… mucked about, picking at everything she could take hold of.

“Hey, could you pass me the blue thingmabot?” She requested, holding up one of the shiny bits that were kind of loose from what she believed to be the main part of the circuit. “This thing could do with a…” _tinkering_ , she thought of saying. She just shrugged, sending some general impression of _doing something_ , instead.

The requested ‘blue thingmabot’ plonked down into her lap, and she offered Missy a fleeting smile, catching the tail end of Missy’s eye roll in the process. “Thanks, darling,” she answered instinctively, pet name slipping through by accident.

She blushed hard, ducking her head to stare back at her… thingies, bitsies, she didn’t even know, tinkering about with the focus of someone who decidedly _did not want to be noticed_.

The shiny-bit was glowing softly, beeping ever so lightly in her hands as she tossed it one side and the other, but it still wasn’t interesting enough to distract her from the soft, fond, warm hum that resonated in her mind, _one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four_.

The thing went clattering to the ground when her hands decided to fail her quite spectacularly, a loud noise that could not even begin to mask the Doctor’s distraught whine.

“Doctor, dear?” Missy asked very calmly in that tone that promised the Doctor a lot of _not-good_.

She swallowed, throat bobbing uselessly around words that choked her up. “Yes?”

“Was that the Gelial Center-arch-piece?”

The Doctor racked her memories for a description of this… _Gelial Centerpiece_ , and got the image of a bright-blue crystal that _might_ resemble the thing that was… oh, _tumbling down to the ground_ right now.

“May…be?” she offered, weakly, smiling weakly at Missy.

“Of course it is, dear.” Missy tutted, shaking her head. “Well. _Go fetch_.” She pointed a finger down.

The Doctor laughed, nervous, and bobbed her head into a shaky nod, hearts racing in her chest. “Yes, Master.”

_Anything, Master_.

**.**

Somehow, they managed to fix it.

“You are a _genius_ ,” the Doctor murmured, laying down tiredly on one of the couches in her favourite library, Missy walking amongst the aisles of bookshelves around her. “A complete _genius_.”

She received the impression of warmth and laughter, Missy’s voice lilting charmingly high in her amusement, “Of course, dear.”

The Doctor allowed herself to close her eyes, smiling softly as the cold air settled around them and she smelled time, dust, books and _home_.

“After all, I am Master of all.”

She snorted and fell to the ground, rolling into nothingness when she forgot it was a couch and not her bed, but it was _worth it_ , because Missy laughed out loud, musical and _perfect_ , and the Doctor didn’t want her anyway else.


	8. wage war on gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prank wars and stupid decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm in a terrible mood, so have yourselves an anticipated chapter.)
> 
> Are you enjoying all this light-hearted feelings? Are you? Because this is the last fluff chapter of the group. Next one, we have angst yet again! (though it will be quite shorter than usual, because by chapter 11 the angst is totally over)  
> So, this one chapter is pure comedy. Seriously, I tried to write pure comedy for comedy’s sake, and, well. “Wage war on gravity”, yeah? (Also, the prompt here was a prank war — well, no, the prompt was “water fight” and then I modified it to be a “prank war”, because I thought it would be more fitting for Missy and the Doctor, _but_ , whatever)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. The latest song is “Nine” by Sleeping At Last. Also, cameos of “Let it Go” by Demi Lovato (and Disney, I think).**   
>  _(I have nothing to say, so… “wake up / fall in love / wage war on gravity / there’s so much / worth fighting for / you’ll see” — do we see romance in the air, perhaps?)_

**Chapter 8**

She was restless, bored, and it was _probably_ a bad idea. But then, she had always been Queen of the Bad Ideas (or, well, King, up until just a year ago. Two? _Some_ years ago). What was the fun in having _good_ ideas, after all? They never ended up in half as much amusement!

“C’mon, Sexy,” she wheedled quietly, pulling a couple levers pleadingly, trying to put the engines on silent and find the _right damn thing_. “Help me out?”

Sexy whirred thoughtfully in her mind, then purred as she fell silent. Hesitantly, a few levers stood out for the Doctor to try, and she grinned broadly, pulling on them with an excited bounce to her feet.

She held tight to the console, whooping loudly as she was tossed up, up, _up_ , stray objects going directly into the ceiling as she reverted the gravity of her ship. That wasn’t _quite_ what she had been aiming for, though, and she turned the wheel by the side of the lever slightly, praying for Missy to wait _just a little bit_.

The pull on her body eased, and she laughed, letting go.

She was _floating_. In middle air. She _loved it_.

She swam back with some struggle, pushing herself away from the console and into the way for the interior of the TARDIS just as she felt the stir of wakefulness coming from Missy’s mind, somewhere deeper into the TARDIS.

Not a moment too soon, just as the Doctor hit her shoulder through the doorway to the hallways of the TARDIS, she heard the bellow that could only be acquired with the particular mixture of strong vocal chords and _a lot_ of psychic energy.

_:DOCTOR!:_

She laughed, though she tried to swallow it down. It had varying results, of course, and she doubted she’d ever convince Missy she _wasn’t_ responsible for this. Not only were the two of them the only ones in the ship, but she was likely projecting her amusement for the whole galaxy to feel.

_:Oh, you will_ see _!:_ Missy growled into her head, voice echoing furiously.

The Doctor gave up on hiding her laughter, devolving quickly into chortles, curling into herself to muffle the sound just a bit, at least. She had to see this. _Had_ to!

She made to swim ahead, reaching out for the nearest wall, and mostly succeeded. She banged her elbows around a bit but nothing she didn’t do _normally_ , and dragged herself through the hallways, narrowly avoiding floating clothes that had been left forgotten on the ground.

Missy had apparently managed to leave her bedroom, because the Doctor followed her energy reading to the art gallery, instead. It made a bit of sense; it was one of the rooms with the least amount of knick-knacks tossed around, so there should be few things to bother them as they floated around.

_And_ , added the Doctor as she pushed herself inside, _it looked bloody amazing_.

The ceiling see-through and showed them the universe around them easily, all the familiar swirls of stars and planets shining into the TARDIS’s floor. In the midst of it all, Missy, hair still a mess and clad only in pyjamas and a silk robe, looked absolutely _mad_.

Until, of course, the Doctor managed to stumble right into one of the few floating sculptures, head first.

“Ow,” she murmured, annoyed, massaging her head a bit. It hadn’t been there just a minute ago, she could _swear_ on it!

Missy laughed lowly, a small chuckle that vibrated in the back of the Doctor’s throat, and looked right at her. _:Having fun, dear Doctor?:_

The Doctor shivered a bit at the proximity of Missy’s mind, brushing constantly as it was against hers, burning hot and fond.

“Yeah, just swell!” She answered brightly, spinning in place with a lazy movement.

She thought she looked great doing so, until Missy clucked her tongue at her and projected the image of a bloody _spinning top_.

“Hey!” She pouted, tipping back to glare at Missy, upside-down.

_:Are you trying to get smarter by increasing the blood-flow to your brain, dear?:_

“Was that what you did?”

… It sounded a better response in her head, now that she thought about it.

Missy snorted with laughter, eyes glinting brightly. _:Oh, Doctor. I love how you admit I am smarter than you,:_ she teased with the impression of brushing knuckles on the Doctor’s brow. _:It’s a sweet look on you.:_

Curious, she asked, “What is?”

_:Humility.:_

Then she fell to the ground, thudding heavily as her shoulders hit the floor with the force of gravity falling back into place.

She groaned loud and cursed under her breath, glaring lightly at the smirking Missy standing on the edge of the room, _the Doctor’s_ sonic screwdriver in hands.

“And you really should learn to pay more attention to your surroundings, dear. You never know when there’s a snake in lying.”

Then, she sauntered off, cocky as anything, leaving the Doctor to stare at her retreating back with a gaping mouth.

**.**

Apparently, she had bitten off more than she could chew with that one small, innocent joke. She _knew_ it had been a bad idea. But then, there was only so much time she could spend without her human friends before _something_ went wrong. This? This was _childish play_.

Though, a very _irritating_ childish play.

She cursed lightly, screwing her face into a grimace; oh, this was all Koschei alright. They’d always been the best at annoying the hell out of _everyone_ back at the Academy. Though, somehow, it _always_ ended up being _her_ fault. Huh.

_:Missy!:_ she projected as loud as she could, annoyed as the repetitive booping grew louder in the console room, not even pretending to have a lyrics.

Though she _was_ pretty sure she’d heard it before… on the telly…

From inside the TARDIS somewhere, a loud snicker found her, poorly disguised under a projection of innocence.

Desisting of the idea that Missy might just give up and stop this on her own, the Doctor grit her teeth and started working on finding the damnable speaker. It had to be something small, because the TARDIS’s sensors couldn’t quite detect it, and the Doctor couldn’t see anything out of place, either.

(She refused to think that her old girl just _might_ be working with Missy. That was impossible. They _hated_ each other, after all!)

And, the Doctor doubted Missy would just stick it into something the Doctor would look at… which meant…

She dropped to the floor, music changing from the _para-bara_ or whatever to a rhythm that reminded her sharply of the Valiant, with all the loud thumps and drumming that used to haunt her whenever the Master grew bored.

She needed to end this. _Now_.

She ignored the sounds around her (and _who_ wanted to whip their hair ‘back and forth’, anyway? Wouldn’t that just hurt their necks?), crawling around under the console with her sonic wedged between her teeth and her eyes intent on looking for anything amiss.

_:Oh, Doctor. You do look good like that,:_ Missy murmured in her mind, startling her enough for the sonic to drop on the ground, a heated flush burning away in her cheeks.

She turned her head around and found Missy leaning on the doorway to the interior of the TARDIS, swaying lightly to the beat of the music, hair pulled into a multitude of small braids that swung in a hypnotizing way with her movements.

Missy chuckled in the Doctor’s mind, and she realized she had probably been projecting that. Right.

_:Outta my head, Master,:_ she grumbled annoyed, not even bothering to try to speak out loud with how loud the song was around them, now. _:Stop distracting me. Won’t work.:_

There was a hum that was heavy on something fiery in its attention, but the Doctor ignored it, raising a wall between her mind and Missy’s with a gentle shove. She wasn’t _actually_ pissed at Missy, was actually very happy that she was bringing chaos in such a harmless way, but it was _annoying_. All these songs were _annoying_ , and the Doctor had never liked Fridays, to begin with.

She grabbed her sonic again, wedging it back in between her teeth, and crawled forwards, being careful not to hit her head anywhere as she tried to locate the speakers with her ears, then, if not her eyes.

It took a while (and she had to give it to Missy. She _knew_ how to be subtle, when she wanted to), but then, finally, she got it. Wedged in between the grates the Doctor once thought she’d find the Cooling System in. Of course.

And Koschei insisted on calling _her_ a sentimental old fool.

She grinned, pulling the speaker out with the utmost care. It was such a tiny, delicate thing. Fragile.

(Like a bomb.)

She pointed her sonic at it, and changed settings. It would be easy, now that she had it in hands. Just a flick; point and imagine, after all.

But then…

She grinned, biting lightly at her lower lip.

Well. Missy had never quite liked Disney movies, in her last regeneration, and payback was only fair, was it not?

She cackled mentally, and flicked the settings again.

Oh, she was too close to be able to get away with her sudden increase of volume without any consequences, but the _scream_ Missy let her hear when the first of the Disney’s songs started playing…

_Totally_ worth it.

**.**

It became a bit of a pastime, between them. Whenever they weren’t trying to make it work out there, exploring a world or another (and, most times, running for their lives, because the Doctor refused to let Missy “deal” with the problems that accosted them), they were trying to one-up each other with cheap tricks.

Of course, the Doctor knew the signs. If she had been travelling on her own, this would have meant it was time for her to get a new companion. Find herself someone to show her the marvel of the universe, once again. As it was, though, it was more of… Well. She had been so… _tame_ in their travels, trying to make sure Missy could not cause any trouble, but…

She had never been one for tame adventures, either. It had been why she’d always loved finding her inconstant companions in the past, after all. Including, as it was, Missy.

Still, she wasn’t sure she was ready for this yet, to _trust_ the Mistress with the life of _others_ …

But she wasn’t ready to let her go, either.

So. They played pranks.

Things like messing with the translation circuit of the TARDIS — which she had thought was a _genius_ idea, right up until the moment Missy came around, smirking, and started talking _with no change at all_. Frustrated, the Doctor had tried to tell her to stop laughing, only to discover it _had_ worked, after all. Missy was just… going _over_ the telepathic fields, and laughing herself silly at the Doctor’s own attempts at doing the same. It hadn’t been her best moment, especially when she realized she didn’t know how to put it back together, and had to spend the next day just _listening_ as Missy taunted her while they worked on fixing the translation circuit together.

Also, things like waking up with all her current shoes feeling just a bit tight, and freaking out for a moment that she had regenerated, _again_ , and hadn’t even realized it. Then, when she realized the _rest_ of her clothes still fit her perfectly, freaking out over whether it was possible for _feet_ to grow over night like that. Just to find Missy laughing at her (but pretending not to), and realize, belatedly, she never checked _inside_ the shoes. Stupid old Doctor.

Or, as she’d announce proudly to anyone who wanted to hear, the _balloon incident_. Yes, that one had been _perfect_.

( _Or_ , she’d admit grudgingly, _the pear one_ )

**.**

She giggled, tip toing her way down the hallway and away from the room that Missy had took possession of to call her own.

She _likely_ shouldn’t have done it, seeing how it _could_ be considered a breach of trust and such, but…

She looked back over her shoulder and ducked her head to hide her grin as she heard Missy’s footsteps coming closer.

It promised to be so _good_.

She hid behind the corner (that she was sure the TARDIS had put up just for this) and waited.

She didn’t have to wait for long, Missy’s footsteps being _right there_ in moments, and she peeked over the wall, biting her lips in anticipation.

The door unlatched easily, sliding back with barely a wheeze of air, and then the room was open and there was a balloon bopping the Mistress, Queen of Evil, right on her face.

The Doctor wanted a picture of it _so badly_.

She cackled, losing control of her reactions right as she saw Missy’s twitching hands by her side, body tensing.

“Oh, dear Doctor,” murmured Missy, loud enough for the Doctor to hear, but low enough to still sound sweet and deadly. “You are _paying_ for this.”

Three more balloons slipped out the room, bouncing harmlessly over Missy’s form, a hundred more crowded beyond her, and the Doctor couldn’t care _less_ about the threat, because this?

This was _gold_.

**.**

She should have expected Missy to strike back at her, but she’d never… never have _thought_ …

This was _dirty_. This was _absolutely dirty_.

She leapt back with a yelp, but her hand was still on the doorknob and it only meant she pulled the door _even more open_ , increasing the flux of, of _pears_ raining down on her.

_Pears_. Who tossed _pears_ at your friends?!

(Or even your enemies. The Doctor was pretty sure this was _deadly_. Much deadlier than the laser beams the Master had once favoured. _Arsehole_.)

She hissed, much like a wet cat, and tried for another step back, trying to release her hand. It seemed like it was a two-part prank, though, and she found herself _glued_ to the door. Right in between the pears. That were _splashing_ under her feet. She grimaced, feeling sticky substances sticking to her boots.

_Damn it._

“C’mon, Missy,” she wheedled, trying not to sound as put-out as she felt. “Not funny. Take me outta here!”

Silence, blessed, awful silence answered her, and she groaned aloud yet again.

Bloody hell. She was going to _murder_ Missy when she got out of here. Just wait.

But first… a way of _getting_ out of here without having to touch even more… disgusting pears. Ugh.

( _She’d always known this was a bad idea,_ she told herself with a sigh. _She’d just never thought it would involve_ pears _. Bloody Koschei._ )

**.**

_(The best part, though? Hearing Missy singing “Let it Go”. Though it_ did _become “Let it fucking go!”_ … _)_


	9. i just want to build you up 'til you're good as new (and maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers run afoul and kindness is something hard to come by.  
> (it was long overdue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All is well that ends well. This is not a “ends well” chapter, I’m afraid. This is more of an angst chapter, really.  
> So, yeah, Missy and the Doctor are amazing, but they are still the Master and the Doctor, and things have to be worked through. They work some more of those things through, in this chapter! Honestly, considering how the original prompt ‘back when’ was “An argument/a fight”, I’m quite proud of myself for my self-restraint.
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters aren’t mine. The song of the time is “Two” by Sleeping At Last.**   
>  _(I could have gone with many other songs, but this part reminded me of the ending of this chapter, soooo…)_

**Chapter 9**

The Doctor always knew it wouldn’t last, but she had _hoped_ …

She refused to flinch, raising her chin just as proudly, just as _stubbornly_ , back at Missy, teeth gritted so she wouldn’t scream back, wouldn’t _fuck this all up_ …

“Oh, you think you are so bloody _good_ ,” sneered Missy angrily, tossing her arms out like the bloody drama queen she was. “So _perfect_. Yes, well, let me tell you something, _Doctor,_ ” she spat the name as if it burned her tongue, eyes blazing with fury, “you are a perfect _hypocrite_ , it’s what you are!”

Distantly, the Doctor realized Missy had a bit of an accent, after all. Not a Scot one, like her last regeneration seemed to prefer (or her own past regeneration), instead something more southern, less English-based, perhaps.

Most of her focus, though, was turned to herself so she wouldn’t snap at Missy as she had always done in the past. She had promised herself to be kind. To be _better_.

“You keep talking about how you want to turn me _good_ ,” mocked Missy mercilessly, manicured fingers waving in the air just inches from the Doctor’s face without ever touching. “But you, you _suck_ at being the good you want me to be. You want me to be a bloody _pacifist_ , innocent, to _not have any blood in my hands_.” She listed in her fingers. “But you have _failed_ at it already!”

The Doctor took a shaky breath in, hands clenching at her sides, and answered, trying to keep her voice steady. “I know. I _know_ , Missy.” She swallowed the hurtful things she could toss in her friend’s face, the things that burned angrily inside, and made herself choose to be the better man. Woman. “And you don’t have to be _perfect_. I know I am not perfect. I know I’m a… a _hypocrite_ …” she admitted, though the words felt like acid in her mouth. “Especially to you. By Omega, was I _awful_ to you, last time we met.”

Clearly, she took Missy by surprise, for she blinked in silence for half a heartsbeat in response to that, allowing the Doctor to continue, pleadingly, “I am not asking you to be… to be a _saint_. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ve learned I should never…” she lowered her eyes, feeling herself shaky but not allowing the weakness to show, “never _pretend_ anymore. But… you can be brilliant; more than that, you can be _kind_. You are a genius. You were always a genius. And you are so _good_ at building things. Why not… stop _breaking_ them, for once? It’s… all I’m asking. Stop _breaking_ things. Stop… killing things that don’t need to be killed, things that haven’t done a thing to you.”

Missy recovered, of course she did, grabbing her wrist with tight pressure that promised to never let go.

It was strangely reassuring, even in their current situation.

“Are _you_?” She asked, voice tight. “Are you going to stop _breaking things_? Because you accuse me, Doctor, but you’re just as chaotic. You are just as _destructive_ as I’ve ever been.”

She blinked slowly, refusing to look Missy in the eyes but knowing she had to. Missy’s eyes were brimming with hurt anger, the kind of anger that once drove them to destroying whole civilizations.

“I’m _trying_ ,” the Doctor murmured back, feeling weak and flayed raw. “I’m always trying. To be good. To be kind. To fix everything I’ve done. I know I can’t… fix _everything_ … but I can certainly _try_.” She swallowed again, forcing herself to keep eye contact and lower her shields, let Missy feel her sincerity. “I can try to be _better_.”

Missy sighed, explosive and fragile like a bomb, and ducked to knock her brow against the Doctor’s own brow, a small shock of feelings travelling quickly between them before settling down in a constant buzz in the background.

“To be better. Not _good_. Just, better.” Missy repeated, breath fanning out over the Doctor’s cheeks. “I can… try.” She paused, something like grudging acceptance burning between them. “Not for you,” she added, clearly forcing the words out, “but for _myself_.”

_:I don’t want to destroy myself once again.:_

The Doctor smiled, something tentative and hopeful, and reached one hand up, relaxing it enough to touch Missy’s cheek, sharing their temperature and the sense of gratitude and _pleased_ that bubbled within.

_:Thank you,:_ she let her eyes fall shut, allowing Missy this much trust. _:I’ll try my best to help you,:_ she added, projecting warmth and belonging. _:If you ever need…:_

_:You’ll be there.:_

She nodded, careful not to dislodge Missy from her, and they shared a moment of warmth and _home_ , smiles hidden beneath constant drumming beats and buzzing minds.

It felt like a beginning. It felt like _hope_.

It felt like an ending.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, when she remembered how this all began. “I hadn’t meant to insult you.”

Missy snorted, pulling away slower than needed but still firmly. “Well, I don’t like to be _coddled_ , dear.”

She nodded, accepting it, and offered her a smile. “One last trip?”

“To somewhere _worth-while_?” Missy asked, haughty. “Not another one of your stupid tourist traps? Because I _swear_ , if you do, I am breaking our oath right now.”

She laughed, hearts clenched painfully at the lack of denial that this was their _last_ trip, but allowed. “Yes. C’mon, I think I know just the place.”

**.**

Rebuilding efforts was always nice, and seeing Missy positively _shine_ while ordering people around to do her demands of reparation was _amazing_.

The Doctor had always known her friend had the potential. _See_ it was… breath-taking.

After rebuilding a whole city in just under a week, three different technological developments achieved with their assistance and another drink the Doctor had created a whole century before its time (Missy had given her a very harsh glare for that, but she herself had also made so many mentions of a book that wouldn’t be released in another 50 years or so to the to-be-author that the Doctor didn’t think she had any stand to complain about it), they left.

They left with grins on their faces, teasing each other easily as if they had never fought in the first place, and it felt like everything was fine once again.

Except, instead of walking to their ( _her_ , she corrected herself morosely) kitchen when they entered the blue ship, Missy walked to her own TARDIS.

“Already?” She asked, plaintively.

Missy turned, soft smirk on her face and a shake to her head, and tutted softly. “Oh, Doctor. We both know that if I keep postponing it, I’ll never leave.”

She stopped herself just in time, and instead of pleading, brokenly, _‘then don’t!’_ , as she had meant to, first, she asked, “Why would that be bad?”

Missy snorted, eyes lighting up with fond amusement, brushing against her mind with the softness of a hug. “Oh, Doctor. Two deities of chaos? Together?” She chuckled, but it was mirthless. “Your little pet project would be doomed before it even began properly.”

She exhaled heavily through her nose, barely resisting the sigh that wanted to escape her, and thought about it. Actually thought.

“Also,” Missy added, patting her TARDIS fondly, “Is it really such a smart idea to keep two TARDISes together like this? One inside the other, even?” She clucked her tongue, lips pulling into a smirk. “Are you _trying_ to destroy the cosmos, dear?”

The Doctor laughed at last and stepped closer to Missy, extending her a hand with a small smile. “Well, then. I guess you make sense — for _once_.” She replied, rolling her eyes dramatically, “But I’ll hold you to your words, Missy.”

Missy bowed mockingly, taking her hand in one of her own and raising it to her lips. The kiss she left on the Doctor’s skin was just a brush, so simple in comparison to some of their past relationships, yet it burned like it had left a brand in her skin.

“Of course, my dear Doctor. I would _never_ disappoint you,” she murmured, laying heavily on her accent and the sweet huskiness that had attracted the Doctor to her, in their first meeting. “Besides, it’s not as if we will not _meet_ each other again.”

The Doctor nodded, projecting arrogance she did not really feel, “Of course; who else would dance with you, after all?”

Missy laughed, still holding her hand in hers even as she stood up, leaning slightly against her TARDIS. “Oh, dear. Don’t ever change, will you?”

The Doctor smiled thankfully, and stepped back, letting her hand fall back to her side with a regretful pull.

“Missy?” She asked, when Missy turned around, a small smile on her face. “Call me. If you ever need something, or if you just want…” She swallowed and shook her head. “Call me. I’ll come. No matter what.”

Missy opened the doors of her TARDIS, silent, but the Doctor could feel her reply in her mind, a brush of thankfulness and craving of somewhere they belonged.

It felt ridiculously familiar, and she was glad to see she wasn’t the only one mourning this already.

**.**

The Doctor returned to Earth. It was time she found her family again.

She arrived not a day after she left them behind, parking before Yaz’s apartment with her engines on silent to allow herself one more moment of solitude before she faced her friends.

It felt strange, coming back to Earth, to her human family, after she spent so long ( _not nearly long enough_ ) with Missy in the TARDIS, travelling and… pranking each other… and… being _friends_ again.

Earth felt… disturbingly _lacking_ , in comparison.

She sighed, pushing herself off the TARDIS when she realized it would do her no good to remain alone any longer. She needed friends. She needed something to distract her.

She needed an _adventure_.


	10. i close my eyes and i can see (the world that's waiting up for me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When faced with problems, the Doctor does what she does best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, this is a bit of a filler chapter, I admit. Even so, I thought it kind of necessary to give the Doctor and Missy some time apart, and, well, how better do that than through a “adventure-kinda” filler chapter? (let’s give an emphasis on the _kinda_. I’m not too good at writing adventure, so I might have… skipped over it)  
> By the way, there’s a moment in this chapter where I raise one of the comments about Time Lords I adapted into my story: I read in the wikia that Time Lords are “exceptionally controlled, and can control anything of their bodies” — so I went through with it and decided that’s the reason why the Doctor never seems to be cold or hot despite the fact her base temperature is a whole 20 degrees (Celsius) below human temperature.  
> (and a moment where Missy’s psychic abilities are… well, much, much better than the Doctor seem to make their ability to be. Explanation, as of right now, is: it’s the Master.)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. The song of the moment is “A Million Dreams” from the movie The Greatest Showman.**   
>  _(this song in specific I guess has no particular connection to this chapter. Eh. Sorry ‘bout that)_

**Chapter 10**

“So, Doc,” Graham started, leaning against the handrails around the console. “How much time did you spend without us?”

She hummed, half-there only, and murmured back, distractedly, “Why you ask?”

“It’s just, your kitchen is a right mess. You have dirty cups everywhere, though I thought the TARDIS cleaned them up itself.” The old girl whirred irritated, and Graham corrected himself with a sheepish chuckle, “Sorry, _herself_.”

“Oh, right, that,” she muttered, thinking of the cups she and Missy had left behind without bothering to clean. She usually kept her kitchen clean, since humans seemed to mind it, and the TARDIS did not restock the shelves if there was anything out of place, but she had had no reason to do so, when it was just her and Missy. The two of them were used to messy places, after all, and they favoured similar foods. Foods the TARDIS couldn’t quite generate, anymore. “I guess I forgot.”

Ryan, playing on his phone on the corner, cursed lightly and came to join them by the console, “Wait, you saying you clean it up _yourself_?”

She nodded, typing out some equations on the TARDIS’s keyboard. She knew she had to be somewhere, but she couldn’t quite remember where, and her database seemed to be slower than normal. She should have asked Missy to take a look at it, while here…

“It’s how the TARDIS work.” She explained. “You need things to be in place for her to grab us more of it.”

There were some murmurs, the vague sense of confusion (two days, and she missed the clarity of another telepath’s mind, already), and Graham announced, “Well, we’ll do it for you, then.”

She raised her head, confused, and finally _saw_ Graham and Ryan standing there. She’d known they were there, had seen them coming from the corner of her eyes, but she had dismissed them, distracted, remembering Missy and how _she_ would have stolen the Doctor’s attention, if she actually wanted it.

She’d forgotten who she was with. Again.

“Oh. Thanks!” She replied, shaking her head with a small grin, clicking to close the tab she’d been searching. “We can divide the task, if you prefer.”

Ryan shrugged, face slightly flushed, and muttered something akin to an assent. Or a ‘whatever’. Hard to tell, with him. Graham, though, nodded genially and waved, stepping away. “I’ll be right on that. C’mon, son,” he added to Ryan.

The two stepped out, steps echoing from the hallways for a while yet before the Doctor turned back to the Time Rotor, humming lightly under her breath.

And stopping startled at seeing Yaz, who’d apparently been waiting there for her on the console, it seemed.

Yaz waved, hesitantly, perched on her console with all the care of one who didn’t know whether they could touch the wires without being shocked or not, and waited for the Doctor to approach her again before talking.

“Hey,” Yaz greeted, warm, offering her a smile. “You ok? You seem a bit distracted, and… well. I don’t know if Ryan realized, but I’m sure Graham did. I mean, it’s pretty obvious, seeing the kitchen, and Graham’s been there before, really, so…” Yaz stopped, laughing a bit at apparently nothing. “Sorry. Yeah, just. You had someone here, didn’t you? Someone who isn’t us.”

Oh, Yaz, clever, clever Yaz. “10 points for Yaz,” she answered with another small smile, resisting the urge to pat Yaz on the head. That’d be patronizing, after all. “Or a star. Don’t remember. Superb, Yaz!”

Yaz brightened up, grin large and eyes fond. “So?”

She blinked back at the girl; _what did she want to know?_ “Oh. Oh!” She laughed. Of course. _Silly Doctor_. “Well, it’s just… a friend. Old friend. Might come back. Might not.”

Yaz hummed, curious but sated, and asked only, “That’s why the TARDIS’s so cooler, now?”

For one small, confusing moment, the Doctor wondered _how the hell_ Yaz had realized that Missy was the one to fix the AC. Then, she realized with a start that the TARDIS _had_ been left on the programming for Time Lords, a good couple degrees lower than humans found necessary most of the times, which also explained why her friends had taken to walking around in winter clothes.

“Ah. Yes. Sorry. Will fix that, hadn’t even noticed,” she laughed nervously, scratching at the back of her head. She’d been used to wearing her jacket, no matter what, and she’d long ago perfected a way of controlling her body temperature, enough to thrive both in the warmer planets or the colder ones, and she tended to not even _notice_ these things nowadays, unfortunately. “Just a sec.”

She stepped around Yaz, hands flying through the dials and buttons to adjust the temperature. Now she was looking for it, she could feel the warmth settling in, almost overwhelming for its sudden appearance.

She shuddered, shaking off the shivers of _wrong temperature_ against her overcooled skin. She grimaced, sticking her tongue out at the sensation, but adjusted easily enough, turning back around to grin at Yaz not a minute later.

“Doctor?” Yaz asked, curious. “Is your temperature different from ours?”

“Another 10 points,” she announced, nodding cheerfully. “Bit colder than you lot. More reptile than mammal, guess you could say.”

Yaz made an amusing face at that, and the Doctor barely hid a smirk. Her friends always acted so strangely when she reminded them of her alien-ness. They all always pretended not to feel bothered by it, of course, but it was downright adorable.

“C’mon. Let’s go get Graham and Ryan. We going to Italy, 1960!” She announced, bouncing back to attention and startling Yaz back into motion. She needed a distraction and her friends needed something to do, clearly.

“Why?” Yaz wondered, jumping down to the floor. “What’s so interesting about 1960, Italy?”

She grinned, spreading her arms broadly, “We going to see the Olympic Games!”

**.**

“Y’know, Doc,” stated Graham, grinning at her as he stood in front of one of the most iconic woman’s smile in the whole Earth. “I am _pretty sure_ the Louvre isn’t in Italy.”

The Doctor shrugged, bouncing excitedly on her feet. “Well! Italy, Paris, it’s all very similar, don’t you think?” She spun in place, wowing quietly at the golden accents in the walls and the high ceilings, before turning back to grin at her friends. “And, anyway, it _might_ not be quite what I promised you, but don’t you think it’s nice? _The Louvre_! It’s not every day you can see this!”

Yaz shook her head fondly, staring around with wandering eyes. “Well, I don’t think you got the time _too_ wrong, at least?”

The Doctor stared hard at some of the people walking past them; it was the Louvre, so the people here were mainly well dressed, so it was hard to tell, but… she sniffed the air, moaning the lack of dirt to taste with half her mind, and said, slowly, “I think we’re in the 50’s. No, no, I _know_ we’re in the 50’s.” She corrected herself, catching scent of the small subtleties that separated the 50s from the 60s. “… _first_ … half, I think?”

“1953,” Ryan stated assuredly, and she turned around, frowning lightly.

“Yeah. 20 points, Ryan, good job. How did ya…” she caught sight of a pamphlet in his hands, and laughed. “Of course. Gold star, Ryan!”

Ryan hummed, distracted, and extended her the pamphlet. “I think you’ll want to see this, mate.”

The Doctor grabbed it curiously, scanning the paper quickly.

“Ohhh,” she cooed delighted, passing it to Yaz while managing to keep herself from bouncing by a very near thing. “Seems like we’ll be here for a while, fam! We’ll see the _whole_ of the Louvre!”

By her side, Yaz shook her head resigned, laughing tiredly as she passed the pamphlet to Graham.

On the paper, the Doctor knew, was a very charming plea to help find the lost paintings of the western wing of the museum, and the Doctor was _certainly_ not turning her back on them.

**.**

“So, this the work of an alien, you think?” Ryan asked as they struggled to sneak past the guards positioned around the famed western wing.

She shushed him gently, aiming her sonic at the light hanging over them, thanking her TARDIS they hadn’t landed too early in the day.

It was quick work to disable all the lights of the wing, but she _might_ have overreached a bit, because she _honestly_ hadn’t meant to explode the light bulb.

And she _really_ should have remembered that humans don’t see all that well.

“What the…!” Graham exclaimed, voice disturbingly loud in the silent dark, and the Doctor leaned into him, covering his mouth with her hand and shushing him as well.

“Shhh, c’mon, follow me!” She hissed, pulling him along.

There were shuffling sounds, muffled curses and many moments of stumbling, but she managed to guide them through the guards and the remaining statues into the correct room they had been searching for.

“O-kay,” she dragged, spinning slowly in place, sniffing the air and pointing her sonic at every empty place in the wall or ground. “It’s _definitely_ an alien.”

Yaz, brilliant Yaz, tapped her shoulder, stopping her before she could start rambling, and she smiled thankfully at her friend. “Right. Sorry. What?”

“Why do you say so, Doc?” Graham asked, curious.

“Oh, you know,” she waved it away, feeling a small familiar buzz at the back of her mind reaching out, the smell of burnt time, and she dearly hoped it had _nothing_ to do with the stolen paintings. It was not her style, after all. “All the wrong sort of energies in the air. And, well, none of the paintings that were stolen were especially valuable, so, there’s that.”

Yaz nodded, thoughtful. “If it were a human, they’d want either one single valuable artefact to sell well, or many non-valuable things from all over the museum, so it wouldn’t catch too much attention.”

She spun around, beaming delighted at the young police officer. “Brilliant, Yaz! _Two_ golden stars for you! Your cop is certainly bleeding through!”

Yaz ducked her head, smiling bashfully, and the Doctor patted her on the shoulder.

“Now, since it’s alien, this means we should help them!” the Doctor announced with a bounce to her step, approaching the closest place where a painting was missing. “You all in, right?”

Ryan snorted, knocking shoulders with her. “Oh, if we let you on your own, you’d blew the whole place up, mate.”

She grinned and shook her head.

“Just _half_ of it!”

**.**

She was wrong. Turned out, the missing paintings had nothing to do with aliens.

Of course, it wasn’t _supposed to happen_ , either, but no aliens. Instead, just a time-traveller, lost in the wrong time, trying to make some money for himself by stealing some less famous paintings that “no one cared much for, anyway”.

It honestly reminded her of Krasko a bit; it irked her _a lot_.

“How do you keep on attracting these creeps, mate?” Ryan muttered as he rubbed his temples, leaning back against the TARDIS’s side, all of them hidden in the small, disused part of the museum she had parked, hours ago. “It’s like you go in search for them!”

She laughed, playing with the small sculpture she had received as a gift from the freelancing searching group, the same ones who had placed the pamphlets all over the museum in the first place. She should have returned it, put it on display on the Louvre at some corner, but a quick glance at it had revealed to her that it was supposed to get lost by this point in time, so maybe it was hers, anyway.

“You can’t blame _me_ ,” she answered, tossing the thing to the air and grabbing it again, repeatedly — it looked a bit like a small elephant, if she squinted just right. Or a bottle. Or a star? She shrugged mentally; didn’t matter, she just _liked_ it. “It’s actually the TARDIS who does that.”

“ _What?_ No, Doc, you can’t start blaming the ship, she’ll get angry!” Graham answered, shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

“Nah, seriously. She told me. She takes me ‘where I need to go.’” She answered with a laugh. “That was an interesting time, actually. I’d love to talk to her again.”

“Wait, this _really_ happened?” Ryan asked with a snort. “I kinda thought it’d be another of your stories.”

She pushed away from the TARDIS, spinning to face them with a small grin, mini-sculpture clenched in her hand. “What? Just ‘cuz something it’s a story, doesn’t mean it’s not true.” She waited a beat, then started walking around them, to the doors of Sexy, allowing a small smirk to take place in her face. “I rewrote the entire universe once, after all. The Second Big Bang. A whole universe written in my memory.” She paused, thinking about it. “Huh. Guess I’m the inspiration for that name, actually. Big Bang. Well. Nice!”

They scrambled after her, Yaz and Ryan protesting that that just _couldn’t_ be true, Graham muttering silently to himself, and she laughed freely, amused at their reactions.

“C’mon, fam! We have a flight to catch!”

She could distinctively hear Ryan muttering, behind her, “ _Can’t we ‘fly’ at any time, mate?!_ ”, but she ignored it with a pleased hum, trying to think where to take them next.

In the back of her mind, she projected a light laugh and reassurance, feeling the small buzz of someone checking in on her from all the way on the other side of the planet, likely having needed to make use of something or another to enlarge her own telepathic field _and_ taking the care to stay until the Doctor was gone herself.

_Oh, Kosch; such a worrywart,_ she thought fondly, and hugely thankful for not having encountered Missy in this mess, after all. Seemed like she _was_ trying, at least.

The TARDIS’s doors snapped shut after them, and she grinned, rushing to the console.

And, oh, she now had _just_ the idea of where to go!


	11. one day love will fall out from the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, things are that simple.  
> (of course, not when they involve the Doctor, though)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Own, one of the biggest clichés of romance films coming right up! But no, seriously; this was one of the chapters where I was trying for fluff so… the plot isn’t much. Which, y’know, might be said for the whole story: “The plot isn’t much”. Plff.  
> (though, really, “sharing an umbrella”? Hahaha… the options were either “go with the literal sense and go fluffy!” or “let’s go with an unexpected but very Thoschei method… and make it angsty”. I decided no one needed more angst so I skipped on the battlefield scene)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters do not belong to me. The song of the time is “If You Still Believe” by Elsa Raven (and the game "The Legend of Dragoon").**  
>  _(all the scenes of “falling into one’s arms” would fit the bill for this one song, buuuuuut. I preferred to go with the whole story + whole lyrics… and this particular bit of the lyrics and the fact this is a rain scene~)_

**Chapter 11**

Morning arrived in the TARDIS as it usually did: barely different from any other time of the day, except for the lazy shuffling of humans into the console room.

The Doctor snorted at the idea that this was her method of counting time. The Time Lords of Gallifrey would be utterly disgusted with her.

It felt _great_ to know that.

“Morning!” She greeted cheerfully as Yaz plopped down against one of the glowing pillars on the edge of the room. “Sleep well?”

Yaz hummed slowly, and the Doctor gathered she hadn’t passed by the kitchen, this morning. Okay, then. At least another five minutes for the girl to wake up properly.

She shook her head, amused, and returned to messing with (that is, making improvements to) the circuits under the console board, hidden by the gleaming metal of the console.

A couple minutes later, Graham walked into the room, Ryan stumbling after him and almost falling on his face.

“You know, you usually stop by the kitchen to drink tea or coffee or something,” she commented without looking at them, frowning slightly at the mess she’d ( _found_!) made with the wires. “’s something wrong?”

“Wanted something different,” answered Graham groggily, walking to her. “If it’s no trouble?”

She pulled at the wires one last time before hiding them back under the console (kicking a few stray objects — well, there’s always a loose piece, right? — into the grates underneath, just to be sure), and turned around to grin at her friends.

“No, sure,” she answered, cheered up. “There’s a planet famous for their coffee shops that might just be what we looking for.”

She looked at Yaz, stretching lazily in her corner, and Ryan, half-asleep not much further from Yaz, and added to Graham with a smirk, “Though it might be a good idea to provide them with some tea, before that.”

Graham snorted and shook his head, murmuring something softly that the Doctor couldn’t quite catch but sounded a lot like a reprimand. She grinned broadly at him, but did as she’d said, and started putting in some coordinates.

“You lot,” she called for the sleepy-heads. “Get hold of something!”

She ran around, dematerializing and setting course, making sure the TARDIS would go where she wanted her to go, this time, and not get it wrong by a couple centuries. It would be a shame if they ended up in a warzone when all she was looking for was a coffee shop, really.

There was a light yelp from behind her as she spun and pulled the last lever, TARDIS shaking under their feet. She hid a grin, waiting as her old girl vibrated and hummed familiarly over her mind. Not long after, and just in time for her to catch her balance again, Sexy touched down, shaking hard.

“So!” She spun around, clapping her hands once. “Year 4 thousand slash apple dot stars, constellation of…” _was it Harenas or Gerthelos?_ _Oh, well._ “Harenas, at approximately four billion light years from Earth. There’s this little planet that exports tea and coffee to several other planets on this side of the galaxy — at least 40, last time I checked —, and it also has _amazing_ pastries. I think they import from the neighbouring moon.”

“Doc.”

She stopped. Graham was shaking his head with a smile, and the other two were yawning, still more asleep than awake, and bleary eyed and clearly not paying much attention to what she was talking.

She looked at Graham questioningly, and he smirked, “You’re rambling, Doc.”

“Was not!” She protested with a pout. “Telling their history! It’s different!”

He laughed, patted her shoulder, and started walking to the doors of the TARDIS. “C’mon. I’m hungry, and those two,” he nodded his head in the direction of Yaz and Ryan, “need to wake up.”

The Doctor huffed, but followed him with a smile. “Right, sure. Food and drinks and then, I think we could go see Barcelona. The planet; with noseless dogs.” Suddenly, she remembered the _last_ time she’d done this same invitation, and added, even more cheerfully. “Or the city. I think you might like the city. Less adventurous, but it’s also very pretty!”

“We’ll see, Doc. Let’s just…” Graham answered, laughing, before trailing off with a wave in the direction of the doors.

“Right.” She repeated, and pushed the doors open. “Well, then!”

She stepped out and spun, opening her arms, grinning brightly at her friends. “Welcome to _Cha’te-lan_ , the planet of teas!”

**.**

They were sitting on a corner booth of a warm, honey-scented, futuristic tea shop, when it started to rain.

It wasn’t any rain, though. Not only was the sound loud enough to make any conversation attempt a real challenge, but it was _bright green_ , and there was something zapping between them falling drops as if it were portables thunderbolts.

“Ooops.” Murmured the Doctor, the sound easily swallowed by the storm outside the shop. “Guess I forgot ‘bout that.”

By her side, Ryan asked, very loudly so as to be heard, what she had said.

“I said,” she answered, raising her voice, “that _that_ doesn’t look too good!”

She was _sure_ she saw Ryan laugh at her. The sound was swallowed up, but he was either laughing or sobbing, by the way his shoulders were shaking, and his face _certainly_ didn’t seem the face of one who was crying.

_Traitor_.

“I mean, it’s strange, but isn’t it just a bit of rain?” Yaz asked, managing to sound curious and concerned even with the volume she was forced to take. “A… green and… thundery rain, but. Rain?”

She shrugged. “I’m almost sure it’s not _harmful_.” She agreed with a nod. “For you.” She added, lower, hiding a grimace. Raising her voice again, she explained, “The people around here can live with it well, after all. But… that looks…”

_Like something I’m terribly familiar with_ , she complemented mentally. She was almost sure she’d seen it before, anyway.

And run from it.

“Anyway, maybe it’ll have stopped raining, by the time we exit!” She added, grinning again. “C’mon, didn’t you want to try their cheesecake? Compare with the ‘original’?”

Yaz frowned slightly, but nodded. The Doctor poked the beeper-button on the table, already scanning her menu for something to ask for, as well. Maybe they’d have the tartes she wasn’t able of tasting when out with Graham?

A small screen popped up, announcing the shop was ready to take their orders, and the Doctor started selecting everything she wanted to taste. With a small grin, she dragged her finger through the menu.

“I’ve made my choice,” she murmured, taking the opportunity of going unnoticed by her friends and thus escaping Yaz’s small frown or Graham’s disappointed sigh. “One of everything it is!”

Oh, the _face_ they’d make when they saw it coming with the robot waiter…

She just hoped she managed to hack money enough to pay for it all, later.

**.**

They ran out the doors, the Doctor laughing hard as they were chased by some workers of the shop. She had _tried_ to pay them, she had; however, they hadn’t accepted the story in her psychic paper, and she hadn’t been able to sonic the required amount into something she had on her — and seeing how there was no ATM around for her to hack…

She leaned forwards, panting a bit, still a bit of a laugh in the back of her throat. And frowned. She wasn’t _supposed_ to be out of breath yet. She had run much further before; this was _ridiculous_ , why was she…

She felt something falling on her back, sizzling loudly at the contact, and realized she was standing under the rain. A rain that felt like it was zapping at her with each hit, _ouch_.

She grimaced, and looked around for somewhere to hide, but the nearest place was the shop they had just run from. Every other covered place was either closed or already filled with people waiting out the rain, and she. She had to get out of this rain _now_. Why did she never carry an umbrella with her?

“Doctor?” Yaz yelled by her side, touching her elbow. With it, though, a surge of _not-hers_ emotions filled her, and she flinched away. “Doctor, you alright?”

_No._ She forced herself to breathe, feeling her hearts thudding painfully in her chest. _No, she felt awful_. The rain felt awful. Her mind felt _sick_ , somehow; all her defences brought low, but filled with a sick buzzing, at the same time. As if she were ill.

Still, she forced a smile, and tried to reply without letting her teeth chatter. “Yeah, just… just need to…”

“Get out of the rain.” Finished a silky voice.

The surprise of feeling the cool warmth by her side and hearing that rasp by her ears was such, she took an embarrassingly long time to realize her skin wasn’t prickling anymore.

“Miss…” she started, spinning around with a grin. She never quite finished because, _wow_. Wow. Missy was… just as produced as the first time the Doctor saw this face of hers, but somehow she managed to look even _better_.

Her hair was styled perfectly, all waves and shining stuff, and her face was _bright_ and looked even sharper than usual, with red, _red_ lips pulling into a familiar smirk.

And, of course, there were the gloves. Leather gloves. Leather gloves and a leather jacket.

_Fuck_.

“Uh.” She murmured when she remembered she was trying to speak, mind whirring back into life. “Hey.”

“Hello, dear.” Missy greeted back, head tilted in a way that made it very clear she was looking down at the Doctor, but also sporting what, to her, was a rather fond look in her eyes. “I see you are intent on making yourself sick. Again.”

She sniffed, rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms. She hadn’t got sick in _ages_ ; it just so _happened_ that last time was exactly while Missy was under her care in the Vault. But before that, it had been _centuries_ since she’d last got sick!

“I wasn’t _trying_ to anything,” she muttered, annoyed, and Missy snorted a small laugh.

_Wait._

She looked up, curious. Over the two of them, Missy held a nice looking umbrella that… _was that a sonic device?_

“Is this _your_ umbrella?” She asked, grinning.

“Well, one never knows when an umbrella might come in handy.” Missy answered breezily. “Also, I quite like it. Don’t you?”

So, Missy’s old umbrella. Wow. The Doctor hadn’t seen it since…

_The Mondasian Ship_ , she supposed.

She shook her head — right. So, the umbrella would explain why her skin wasn’t feeling so awful anymore. And if it was _Missy’s_ umbrella, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine she had programmed a way of cancelling noise, thus explaining why they could understand each other without screaming.

“Thanks,” she murmured, touching Missy’s wrist as she looked back at her friend.

Missy inclined her head, regally, and stepped closer, managing to hold the umbrella over them both in a way that no part of either of them would be exposed to the climate.

“I believe we should get going, dear.” Missy said blithely. Her sharp look over the Doctor’s shoulder, however, told another story. “Before your… _friends_ … catch up with you.”

The Doctor turned her head, looking at the same direction, and found some people spilling out the tea shop she had just run from, looking mighty pissed.

Right. Sounded like a good idea.

“Oh!” She remembered, looking around. “My friends!”

She found them easily. Yaz, Ryan and Graham were standing almost right outside the umbrella, clearly screaming something at her. Ryan kept looking in the direction of the shop and pointing at the TARDIS, while Yaz looked much more concerned about Missy, by the Doctor’s side, and Graham looked simply confused.

“Can you lower the sound barrier for a moment?” She asked, hearts fluttering in distress. She hadn’t even remembered them. She owed them an apology, clearly. “Just to tell them we have to go to the TARDIS.”

Missy’s sigh made the hair on the back of her head flutter, but then she could hear the rain, thundering loudly over and around them, and her friends’ concerned voices, screaming over each other.

“Hey!” She yelled back, waving a hand to catch their attention. “Let’s go to the TARDIS! We can talk there! Can’t hear you too well!”

Yaz looked like she might protest, but Ryan pointed at the robots closing in, screamed, “Get a _move on_ , Yaz!” and she complied, frowning.

The Doctor grinned, satisfied, as they pelted down the streets.

The sound around them became muffled again, and she spun to look at Missy, a grin on her face.

“Right. I think that applies to us, too.” She said, humming contently. “Run?”

Missy snorted. “Run.”

**.**

_Running while sharing an umbrella was something highly difficult_ , the Doctor decided as she stumbled into the TARDIS. _But also very amusing._ Everything seemed warmer, since they had to press close to each other, and it was so much like trying to sneak from their pranks in the Academy, she had had a moment of pure nostalgia.

She was snapped from her daydreams when arms were flung around her shoulders. “Doctor! You’re back!”

She hugged Yaz back, patting her on the head carefully. “Hey, Yaz. Ryan, Graham. ‘m back, sorry for worrying you.”

Yaz’s hands clenched hard on her shoulders as the girl stepped back enough to stare her down. A feat, considering Yaz was slightly shorter than her.

“Don’t you ever do that to us again! You started acting all weird when we reached the rain, and then you just ignored us for some random woman, and stayed behind when there were aliens chasing you!”

Graham coughed pointedly, and the Doctor could also feel her lips twitching. At her back, she could feel the silent buzz of another Time Lord entering the TARDIS’s telepathic field, suddenly feeling much easier to sense than anywhere else.

“Ah. Another girl who has lost herself to your marvellous promises.” Missy drawled. A hand touched the Doctor’s neck, possessive and heavy, and she snorted silently. “Do you collect strays just for this, dear?”

Yaz snapped to attention quickly, and the Doctor could practically see her hackles rising as she raised her chin, jaw clenched. “I do not believe we were introduced, miss…” she trailed off, pointedly.

“Yaz. It’s fine.” The Doctor answered, one hand resting on Yaz’s shoulders, the other reaching back to pinch Missy on the side. “I invited her.”

Yaz kept staring at them for a moment longer, before huffing but nodding, stepping away. On the back, by the console, Graham was frowning, and Ryan shuffling awkwardly.

“Aren’t you the woman from the ball?” Graham asked suddenly. “You danced with the Doc. Didn’t ya?”

The Doctor beamed at him, nodding happily. “Yes! Good memory, Graham. A star for you. 10 points?” She waved it off, stepping further into the TARDIS and snapping the doors shut behind them. “We did.”

Ryan turned to his granddad, head tilted, “Ball? Which ball?” He glanced at the Doctor with a frown, and it was visible when he remembered. “Wait, the ball you two went to alone?”

“You never mentioned anyone else,” Yaz added, settling in with the others, clearly presenting a united front.

“Well, it didn’t seem _important_ at the time…” the Doctor admitted, shuffling around. She reached for the console, hands floating to take the TARDIS off this planet as soon as possible. Except; she looked over her shoulder at Missy, who was leaning against the column behind her, face shut off and remarkably silent. “Is that okay?” She asked — around them, the TARDIS hummed for the Vortex, the energy that held them afloat.

Missy nodded, waving one hand around lazily. “I’ll just get myself back, later on, when you’re not currently wanted for…,” she paused, tilting her head to the side with a smirk, “what was it? Eating and running?”

A slight flush rose on her cheeks but she shrugged, unrepentant. “Well, how was I supposed to know their technology could see through psychic paper?”

Missy snorted, “By the fact that their whole planet is defended from psychic attacks? They have a telepathic field over all their cities.”

“Ohh, that explains it,” she teased back, looking at Missy through her eyelashes. “After all, I never took you for the type to ignore such a _productive_ little galaxy.”

Missy’s raised eyebrow could mean a lot of things. The projected _:really? You going there?,:_ narrowed it quite a lot, though.

Right. Might not be too advisable, especially with company.

She shook her head, pulling the lever to dematerialize her TARDIS, coordinates left blank.

“Right!” She spun back around to her human friends. “I think you need an introduction!”

Ryan, never one to hold his tongue, murmured back with a roll of eyes, “You think?” To which Graham gave him a disapproving frown.

“So, like Graham said, we danced together in the ball of Therraria, 52nd Century.” She started.

“58th, dear.” Corrected Missy airily.

_Was it?_ “Or that.” She allowed, shrugging; had she checked the century? She thought she had, but then, she wasn’t sure… “But, important bits: she’s Missy, my best friend. My childhood friend, really.”

Missy reached out to her mentally, warm and pleased, and the Doctor reached back, smug and endeared.

“So… she’s an alien?” Graham asked, frowning slightly.

The Doctor shrugged. “To you, sure. To me, nah.”

Yaz tilted her head. “You know, you never say much about yourself. You said you’re two thousand years old,” apparently, they hadn’t let Graham in on that, because he choked quite spectacularly, receiving a sympathetic pat on the back from Ryan in return. “And that you’ve been married, but not much else. We don’t even know what you are. Or where you’re from. You never took us to see your world.”

Missy snorted at a level that could be considered inelegant, for her. “These are even worse than usual, dear. Do you have a test? You only bring along the strays that are ridiculously _nosy_?”

She tossed a glare over her shoulder, shushing Missy noisily. Looking back at Yaz, Ryan and Graham, she offered them a smile, though her hearts were pounding in her chest, wild.

“Well,” she admitted, voice tight. “Me and Gallifrey — that’s our planet, by the way — don’t… like each other very much, let’s say. It’s always best when we, ah, pretend the other doesn’t exist.” _Worked for centuries, even. Until they decided to lock me away in a **torture chamber**._ Her stomach knotted with worry and a bit of fury that hadn’t quite left her, not yet, and she forced herself to breathe slowly. “And, well. There’s not much to say, actually. I’m just… the Doctor.”

She shrugged when they looked at her with varying levels of annoyance — and concern, she realized, brushing against their minds with the help of the TARDIS.

(She ignored Missy’s growing amusement at her back)

“But, anyway. Missy, this is the fam!” She continued, cheering up. “Yasmin — Yaz for her friends! —, Ryan and Graham,” she pointed them out. “You met Graham briefly, before.”

Missy stepped closer, close enough to radiate her body warmth against the Doctor’s side, and she remembered, distractedly, that she was still wet. As were her friends. They should change clothes…

“Pleasure to meet you, _‘fam’_.” Missy’s quotes were audible in her voice even as she modulated her tone to sound charming, instead of mocking. “And really, dear. It’s Master.”

Ryan groaned loudly. “Oh, of _course_. And here I was thinking it was a _normal_ name…”

“How does ‘Missy’ even relate to ‘Master’, anyway?” Wondered Yaz, head tilted to the side endearingly.

The Doctor shrugged. “An abbreviation.”

“For _Mistress_.”

Graham’s face couldn’t be clearer; he clearly regretted every second of this conversation. Ryan’s face seemed to be of similar intent, to be honest.

“Mate…” groaned Ryan, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I know Yaz asked to hear more about you, but… your sex life was _not_ …”

“Why, Doctor; I stand corrected!” Missy crooned, delighted. “These pets of yours are _adorable_.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I think you all need to go change clothes,” she looked pointedly at each of her friends, before looking back to the Time Rotor. “And _clear your minds_. Omega, it’s like travelling with a bunch of teenagers, sometimes…” she grumbled, spinning dials and punching buttons, needing to do something to distract herself from the flush rising in her cheeks and the flutter in her chest.

She’d prefer to go down on the TARDIS’s circuits, fix something, but she _also_ needed a change of clothes, and Missy… likely needed to go back to her own TARDIS.

Ryan chuckled. “Fine. If you say so.”

She waved one hand over her shoulder, aiming to dismiss them. Their footsteps started in the direction of the interior of the TARDIS, and she hummed, pleased.

One pair of footsteps paused, lingering by the doorway, and she raised her head to see Yaz. Yaz stood with a small frown and fond eyes, leaning slightly against the doorway. “If you need, just call us.”

She grinned thankful at her friend. “Don’t worry, Yaz. But thanks.”

Yaz nodded once, and left.

“So,” she murmured, grabbing herself a biscuit for something to do with her hands. “The Master. It’s been a while.”

Missy (the Master) leaned by her side, head tilted to show her smirk and hands positioned to brush lightly against the Doctor’s free arm.

“Well. It’s been a while, too.” they murmured back. “I wanted to be a she, last time.”

She nodded, humming softly. “Then, would you prefer ‘he’? Or ‘they’, maybe?”

They shrugged, eyes falling closed. “’She’ is still good. And I don’t mind if you call me Missy.” She grinned, full teethed, and leaned closer to the Doctor’s face, eyes falling open again. “Though I’ll admit, I _like it_ when you use my name.”

The Doctor snorted, mind flashing back to a conversation exchanged long ago. “Oh, darling,” she murmured back, leaning closer still, until their breaths mingled tantalizingly. “ _I know_.”

She pulled back, smirking at Missy’s answering show of teeth, and turned on her back, hearts racing.

“Now, I _do_ need to change clothes. If you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to get _sick_.” She paused on the edge of the console, back turned to her oldest friend, and added, softly. “If you want to go, the TARDIS has been programmed to allow your use of it again.”

She should be ashamed of running away, hearts thrumming in her throat as she did it, but then again, that _was_ what she did best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate deadlines (and schedules...). All I'm saying. I either skip them or get ahead of them.
> 
> (also, why not; thanks for all the support I'm receiving!!! I answer every single comment I receive, even those left by people without an account, so those who've left reviews are probably tired of reading this already, but to those who don't: I'm very thankful to everyone who's reading this story, whether you comment or not, whether you leave a kudo or not. _Thank you_ , really, thanks so much!)


	12. i can't escape it now (i'm in too deep to get out)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where chess is played.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and building romance! Both fluff and mock-plot! Wow! Let’s all be amazed together, shall we?  
> But, seriously, this is a fluff chapter with some more talk of the Doctor and Missy’s past, but nothing heavy. Just some feel good things? Well! Enjoy!
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. The song of the time is “Storm” by Ruelle.**

**Chapter 12**

When the Doctor stepped back into the console room, she was surprised to see Missy still standing there, messing with her controls.

“I fear your… biscuit dispenser… has been jamming.” Missy commented as soon as the Doctor entered the room, indicating she had, indeed, been keeping an eye — or, well, a feel? — out for her. “And I did us the favour of raising your shields. I don’t know how you managed to survive all these years without taking even the barest measures for safety, I swear.”

Yaz was already on the room, the Doctor realized suddenly. Missy and Yaz. Together.

She was afraid of asking whether they tried to kill each other or, Rassilon be damned, if they managed to _reach an agreement_.

“The others?” She asked, instead, directing her eyes for Yaz, who was perched quietly by the console, staring at Missy as if she didn’t trust her.

“Graham went for a nap,” Yaz answered, tone vague and distracted. “Or, well, to the library. Where he’s likely going to fall asleep.” She raised her eyes to the Doctor, and offered her a small smile. “And Ryan said he’s not in the mood for, uh, witnessing… UST.”

The Doctor frowned for a moment, trying to remember where she had heard that term before — she was sure it was a 21st Century Earth colloquialism, but…

“Why, Doctor,” Missy drawled, lips twitching visibly into a smirk. “This batch of yours is even more loosely lipped than your bossy little friend.”

She snorted back, stepping closer now that it didn’t seem that a disaster was _immediate_ , at least. “I’m sure Clara would protest a bit against that. She seemed to think that it was her job to correct me at every corner.”

“And was she wrong?” Missy shot back, before softening, turning her head into the Doctor’s direction. “I see you have resolved your slight… _problem_ , then.”

She hummed back. It still smarted, knowing she had… _forgotten_ Clara. Her own Impossible Girl. Who could be considered responsible for her past two regenerations, even. The woman whom she’d allowed in and had saved her in the process. And Missy, she supposed.

_And our Paris,_ the Doctor thought dryly, remembering a newly regenerated Missy grandstanding to… give her a _birthday gift_.

She shook her head slowly. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. Nothing of that mattered anymore; Clara was long gone, now. She had died four billion years ago… she had died in a small alley where the Doctor had been unable to save her, and… and it _had_ been beautiful.

(And she might be still alive, out there, still running with her own stolen TARDIS… but the Doctor refused to think of it. She had almost broken the universe once already for her. She refused to allow herself to do so again.)

Besides, Missy was here, right now, and she shouldn’t be focusing on Missy’s _past_. If she started focusing on all that Koschei had ever done in all their years of life…

Still, Missy wouldn’t quite accept it if she didn’t at least put up a token resistance. It was just how they worked, after all. “Not thanks to you.”

“Why, dear,” Missy’s lips were twitching again, mind a trembling mess of amused giggles. “I didn’t think you would enjoy hearing _my_ tales of your bossy girlie. If you can’t remember, last we saw each other… well.”

_I tried to make you kill her_ , the Doctor could easily complete with.

But Missy had also been the one to give the Doctor’s number to Clara in the first place, hadn’t she? So she supposed… in the end… she almost forgave Missy for _that_ one.

“Uh…” Yaz coughed, discomfort bleeding out of her so thickly the Doctor didn’t even need to tap into the TARDIS’s telepathic field to feel it. “Would you prefer if I gave you two some… alone time…?”

“Why, yes dear, thank you so much for asking!” Missy replied, beaming cheerfully at Yaz with just the right amount of teeth to make it a threat and a blatant lie at the same time.

The Doctor sighed, offering Yaz her own smile. “There’s no need, Yaz. It’s always like this, I’m afraid. Even if you just leave us now, if we ever share a room in the future, it won’t be any different.”

_:I can remember a time where it wasn’t quite like this,:_ Missy commented in her mind, voice sultry enough to make the Doctor’s face burn quite furiously but also sincere enough to make her hearts clench with painful hope.

_:It’s been too long,:_ she sent back, still looking at Yaz instead of glancing at her friend as she wanted to do. _:I do not know whether we still know how to be that or not.:_

_:Oh, yes,:_ the Doctor could just feel the eye roll that accompanied these words, huffed as they were. _:You have married. Again. How many times is it, now?:_

She turned, gaping at Missy unbecomingly. How did _that_ even come into question?! And, anyway, as far as she knew, the last person she’d married was _River_ , and that was… quite a while ago, actually.

She pushed all those thoughts into Missy’s direction, disregarding all finesse and propriety in her need to have an answer. Was this Missy further in the future than the one the Doctor had said her goodbyes to, not a week ago? Had this Missy seen a future _Doctor_? Who was, apparently, married, _again_?

Missy didn’t reply, however, not to her, and not mentally. Instead, she sniffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a careless shrug. “I suppose, since you desire to stay with us, we should migrate somewhere else. After all, our usual distractions are not… _suited_ for a third person. Especially a _human_.”

The _Doctor_ knew she just meant that the TARDIS wasn’t suited to be fixed by humans, not really, but the tone that Missy took to say that implied something quite different. It was something that reminded her sharply of the Master, all dark smirks and heavy threats, but also of Koschei, beautiful Koschei teaching her how to bond mentally with someone else.

She coughed — halfway between polite and choking on her own saliva — and pushed Missy’s shoulder, _hard_.

“You… just…” she groaned, scrubbing her free hand over her own face. “Just, _shut up_ , please.” Missy chuckled, sultry, and it was _not helping_. “C’mon, Yaz. Let’s… you wanted to play chess, right? We can do that. If Missy wants to be a prat, she can be a prat all on her own.”

She meant it, too. But, she had to admit, she was still pleased when Missy’s clinking heels followed them out of the room, Missy’s mind brushing teasingly over her own — she _meant it_ , but she had also meant it as a reminder to Missy that _some things_ should be left alone.

And she was much happier that Missy had _left it alone_ than she was about playing chess.

**.**

Somehow, in the middle of the second chess match between her and Yaz, Yaz stepped out, grumbling about cheating aliens (and it wasn’t entirely _untrue_ , except that, in this particular match, she _hadn’t_ cheated, so, hey!), and went to sit by the fireplace instead, leaving the Doctor to face off against Missy.

“Restart, dear? I’m afraid I’d have you in Check Mate in…” Missy glanced down at the board; a deliberate move, the Doctor was sure, but she still fell for it, bristling internally at the clear lack of interest in her face. “Oh, four moves?”

She shouldn’t. This was Koschei 101 — piss off your opponent and then take the higher ground when they are too busy being angry at you; the Doctor had _learned it from her_ , really.

She still did exactly what Missy wanted, because despite learning how to piss off her opponents (and, really, that was _easy_. Somehow, people either loved or hated her whenever she acted like herself), she never quite managed to learn how to distance herself from the same tactics whenever they were used against her.

“Oh, you’re _on_.”

Missy got it wrong.

She won in three.

“Ugh,” groaned the Doctor, banging her head down on the board. “I should have tossed the board on the ground when I had the chance.” She sighed, heaving herself back up. “How are you even this good at one-dimensional chess?” A grin spread on her face, tugging delightfully at her chest. “Why, darling, are you trying to be more _human_?”

Missy’s eye roll was _epic_. The Doctor heard Yaz snort at the back of the room, and turned her head just enough to catch Yaz’s spreading grin from behind the book she was pretending to read, eyes too high up for that.

“Dear, we both know that one-dimension chess is child’s play.” Missy sniffed, running one hand through her hair delicately. “Though sometimes I have to _wonder_ …” Her eyes fell on the board and then back on the Doctor’s face, an eyebrow raised teasingly.

She sniffed back, lips still twitching in her grin, and shrugged genially. “What can I say; I was always better at talking myself out of problems, instead of planning a way out.”

“Oh, that’s always been like that, then?” Yaz asked, laughing in her face.

Missy’s eyes glinted, something between sharp reprimand and delight at embarrassing her. “Oh yes. The Doctor was never good at making plans. Despite the preoccupying rate in which she always found herself into problem. Somehow, though, she always managed to talk herself out of it, even when we were at the Academy; she annoyed our teachers so much they just let her go, I suppose.”

The Doctor leaned in, grinning madly. “Yeah. And when that didn’t work, you always managed to plan a way out of whatever it was that we were in.”

Yaz giggled, eyes softening as one’s wont to do when hearing about children. Apparently, something that was true even for normally down-to-Earth people (though, was Yaz _really_ down-to-Earth, the Doctor wondered quietly to herself. She _had_ been the most excited about travelling the stars, hadn’t she…).

“So, you two knew each other at school?” Yaz asked, lowering her book and giving up any pretences of not being interested in them.

“Oh yeah. Met at our initiation.” The Doctor nodded. “Missy was such a short child back then, heh.”

“You didn’t change much, dear, did you? Still ridiculously dressed and always prone to running. You even look somewhat similar, this time around. All big eyes and light hair.”

“Well, but this time she’s a woman.” Yaz pointed out, not unkindly. “Right? The Doctor said she was never a woman before.”

The Doctor caught Missy’s elegant shrug, and answered before her friend could insult humans yet again. “Not the way you would take it, no. But we Time Lords don’t do gender quite like humans, I’m afraid.”

Yaz nodded, slowly, clearly wanting to ask more questions but keeping quiet; possibly because of Missy’s presence in the room. Maybe she should deal with it sooner than later. Sit down with them and just let them have at it… but the _idea_ of answering questions…

She shivered mentally, and turned back to Missy.

“C’mon, I want a rematch. I’m gonna win, this time!”

Missy’s smile was totally condescending, but the brush of mind against her own was sweet and understanding. She wanted a distraction? Missy would give her one.

(She lost. Three more times. Then, when Missy started grumbling about something or another, the Doctor accepted her defeat graciously. Ish.

Maybe.)


	13. we'd remember tonight (for the rest of our lives)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this a perfect moment to put in a talk between the Doctor and Graham or the Doctor and Yaz or, hell, the fam and the Doctor? Yes, yes it was! Did I take it? Nope, I did not!  
> When in doubt, have some more fluff.
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. The song of the chapter is “Wings” by Birdy.**   
>  _(self-restraint? Whazzit? Hahaha...)_

**Chapter 13**

It became a bit of a habit, after that. Missy would be there when the Doctor was doing _anything_ — mostly criticizing her, making snide comments on her “pets”, and being a general nuisance of herself.

She would also, for some reason, refuse to leave. Just… hover around, offering advice the Doctor never asked for, and being… being her _friend_ , again. Irritating, somewhat bitchy, full of dry wit, and… _Koschei_. Just. Koschei. Her friend. With her comforting drawl, her offers of companionship when every other friend of the Doctor’s was asleep, a warm-cool presence by her side when she was piloting the TARDIS, a mind buzzing through hers. She was familiar in a place where the Doctor still felt lost, still tried to _find herself_.

She was _present_ , when she had said she wouldn’t be, because they were not good for each other, and she was distraction from all the thoughts that just wouldn’t leave the Doctor _alone_.

Including, it turned out, in the middle of the night when the Doctor should be asleep, because she had been awake for _too many days already_.

The Doctor hadn’t expected her. She had just sat down by the open doors of the TARDIS, wanting away from her bed and her thoughts and to be close to the stars, when she heard footsteps.

At first, she had thought it would be Yaz — she was a bit of a night-owl, the Doctor had discovered. Sometimes, when the Doctor was alone in the night, maintaining the TARDIS’s circuit, Yaz would just wander in, and they would sit together talking about nothing important; or, lately, the Doctor and Missy would be playing chess, and Yaz would sit on the corner of the room, a book in her lap, and just listen to them banter.

But, well; no Yaz, this time. Maybe it would be Graham, then — insomniac from his own nightmares and too many memories he tried to bury deep within, the Doctor had discovered; sometimes _he_ would be the one to walk into the Doctor’s time at the kitchen or by the doors, just sit there with a cuppa and talk about Grace or maybe not talk at all.

It wasn’t Graham, either.

Instead, who plopped down by her side, utterly ungraceful and loud, was _Missy_ , clad in what most likely passed for her pyjamas and cradling a cup of tea in her hands.

“Nightmares?” Missy’s voice was steady and soft as she asked, shoulders brushing with hers.

The Doctor nodded silently, still glaring off at the stars in the distance. Her old girl spun lazily, and she kept an eye out for anything familiar or remotely interesting, but Sexy seemed to be of the mind she didn’t need anything to focus her mind on, this time, because she was hovering in a place where the Doctor couldn’t recognize even one planet.

A steaming cup was placed in her hands, warmer hands holding hers very firmly and guiding them to curl around the cup, and she stared at the tea within for a moment, wondering how she had managed to fail to notice its scent before this.

“Take it. It’ll help.” Missy ordered, tapping against her hand sharply.

Numbly, the Doctor smelled it in, letting the scent of… familiar herbs and honeyed-milk fill her brain until she was dazed enough to obey Missy, hands trembling just the slightest bit as she took a sip of the tea in the cup.

It hit her with all the strength of an earthquake, the taste exactly the same hint of honey, milk, spices and sweet, decaying flowers that she had known in her childhood.

“How did you manage it?” She asked, wonderingly, taking a second sip with much more enthusiasm. “I didn’t think I had any of it in my kitchen.”

“You hadn’t.” Missy answered simply, taking the cup from her hands just as firmly as she had put it there, in the first place. The Doctor turned her head and watched, amusedly, as Missy drank it from the very same cup, lips brushing the same place the Doctor had drunk from. “I carry the ingredients in my bags with me.”

The Doctor blinked, once, twice, trying to process it.

“You carry _bags_? How come I never saw it?!” She asked, looking Missy up and down carefully.

Missy smirked back at her leaning back a bit and offering her the tea again. She shook her head amusedly and took the offering, sipping at it again.

Just as she was sipping at it once again, she felt Missy’s breath on her ear, warm and smelling faintly of the tea, and heard Missy murmur: “Where do you think I carry my laser screwdriver?”

She choked, eyes widening and face flushing as she remembered _where_ , exactly, she had seen Missy take the screwdriver out of on their last adventure.

Missy laughed cheerfully, taking the cup again. “Come on, dear. Why don’t we explore one of these planets out there?”

She looked fondly at Missy, and grinned sweetly as she was offered a hand up. “Oh, _okay_ , then. Let’s go.”

**.**

As they returned from their solo adventure, the Doctor and Missy fell together on the Doctor’s bed, sweet and pliant and laughing a bit, and the Doctor felt as if everything was in the right again.

“Thanks,” she said, taking Missy’s hand in hers, twisting their fingers together easily. “For today.”

Missy hummed calmly, caressing her hand back, curls spread over the bed sheet and over the Doctor’s shoulder. “Don’t mention it.” She paused, then added, more firmly. “And I mean it. _Don’t_ mention it. We don’t want your pets having any stupid thought about me.”

The Doctor laughed, joy bubbling in her chest and throat, and knocked their feet together. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. We can’t let them know you’re not a monster, right, _Master_?” She teased cheerfully.

Missy chuckled back, clearly pleased, and they fell into silence — though it was interspersed by random chuckling from time to time, for no special reason.

After what the Doctor could feel were hours, when dawn approached at last and she realized this had been yet another dreamless night, Missy finally moved again, knocking her head against the Doctor’s softly.

“I will take my leave today, dear.” She murmured, voice carefully low and non-threatening. “Go back to my TARDIS. Fly around on my own for a bit.” She breathed out a small huff. “Let you to your pets and your own brand of disaster.”

The Doctor had known this was coming. Still, she swallowed heavily, hearts clenching painfully at the reminder.

“Yeah.” She agreed weakly. “We don’t want the universe to implode, yeah?”

She got a hum of agreement in return. “I will remain for the day. Give you and your pets another go of adventuring together. But, by the end of the day, I must return to my own ship.”

The Doctor nodded, her eyes fixed on the sky above her.

Suddenly, the light-hearted feeling in her chest seemed like a thing of the past.

**.**

“Are you ok?” Yaz asked, sitting by her side in the open doors of the TARDIS, the swirl of the universe under their feet, an echo of the night before when Yaz had managed to sleep and the Doctor _should_ have been asleep, she thought with a bit of fondness.

But, Yaz had asked her a question, and she deserved an answer. She hummed, letting herself think about it for a moment. Her chest felt too tight and her mind too empty with just the TARDIS’s song in it, but… “Yes,” she murmured, and it was true enough. She _missed_ Missy, she missed Koschei, despite the fact she had left just a couple hours ago, but she _was_ okay. She was fine, even.

Because Missy… despite everything… _was_ trying. She wasn’t succeeding to the Doctor’s expectations quite yet, but she had to admit that she _might_ be expecting too much of someone who had never been quite like her, in the first place.

“Ok, then.”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Yaz leaned against her, a warmth too hot after getting used to being in the presence of a Time Lord’s temperature again, but the Doctor appreciated it.

They remained in silence, watching the turn of the universe, for a moment more. It could have been seconds, minutes or days; for once, the Doctor gave it no thought, letting time slip her by unnoticed.

“Was she the one?” Yaz asked suddenly, pulse quickening a bit under the Doctor’s ear.

She was pretty sure Yaz meant the one to share the Doctor’s TARDIS with her when they were gone. However, it might not be. It might have been something more.

Either way, the answer was the same one.

“Yes. She was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... _slightly_... (or more)... tempted to start updating this story every other day? Especially seeing how this is my last week of vacations and there's still over half the story to post. Wow.


	14. oh let's go back to the start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I held out until now. I'm feeling fricking proud of myself. Now, have a chapter, dears!
> 
> But, no, seriously, to the notes...  
> Whump? Did someone say whump? Who wants some whump? Softer than chapter 4, though, I believe.  
> I really wanted some problems of being a woman being tossed into the Doctor’s face, sooo… haha, sorry? But, well, she’s an alien. She doesn’t do this normally, so don’t expect the usual problems, I guess. Especially because I couldn’t imagine how the Doctor would go through that…
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. As usual, song disclaimer warning; “The Scientist” by Coldplay.**   
>  _(do we have some more throwback to first generation? Ehhh…)_
> 
> Breeeeaking pattern... Some **important points** , that can be ignored, but would be best read.  
> This might be a good idea to say that this whole thing was born of a headcanon that the Doctor has had female parts BEFORE 13. Including in their first generation, which I would more or less consider a trans male... and then proceeded to stop giving any fuck afterwards...  
> And, if anyone is squick... there's talk of periods in this chapter. Kind-of. It's stronger in the next one.

**Chapter 14**

Two weeks after Missy left her again, the Doctor called her back.

She didn’t _intend_ to. She had been travelling with her fam quite happily, as it was — they had just saved a city from being overrun by a tyrant two days ago, and corrected a mix-up of timelines in Ancient Egypt a week ago, and she had finally shown them the Diamond Cascades, as she had promised (not the ones from Midnight, though. She still didn’t feel much comfortable returning there, not after…).

But then, she woke up that day with pain _everywhere_ , and her TARDIS… well. Sexy might know what was happening but, for some reason, even the TARDIS’s song was pissing her off, right now. The poor dear had had softened up quite a bit when she first snapped at it, even though the Doctor had apologized profusely afterwards. It was just… _strange_. She had always loved her TARDIS’s lullaby; had always loved dancing amongst the stars, even when she wasn’t doing anything in particular.

Yet, right now, she just felt utterly _terrible_ , her head too full and too empty at the same time, her hearts racing too fast, her stomach too cramped. Everything was just…

Thus — Missy.

The answer was quick; Missy requested they meet on a planet — some far off, uninhabited planet that would only get its first settler in, ah, approximately two billion years — because she was… busy? And she didn’t want to park her own TARDIS inside the Doctor’s again, lest they manage to create a paradox accidentally.

Made sense, actually. The Doctor was grateful for Missy’s forethought, because if it were up to her, she would have parked _her_ TARDIS inside _Missy’s_ , if that was what Missy wanted her to do.

“Hey, Doc.” Graham called putting a hand on her shoulder. It was such an innocuous thing, but the moment he made contact, even through the several layers of her clothing (though they were positively _baking_ her, by Omega, she had forgotten how it felt to actually _feel_ the temperature), she could feel him, she could feel his thoughts _inside her head_. It was such a mess of _concern-worry-issheokay?-hurry-needtodosomething-soundlessscreams-flutters_ that it would be enough to drive her crazy, and she couldn’t refrain from flinching back, his face crumpling and his hand falling awkwardly to his side. “Uh. Sorry?”

He was blessedly silent, without the touch on her to project his thoughts, her TARDIS working as a strong telepathic defence as she usually worked as a telepathic amplifier, and she allowed herself to breath, for a moment, before trying to answer him.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. Keeping eye contact was hard, and she found herself focusing on his nose and receding hair, instead of looking at those eyes — so gentle, so soft, so _kind_. “I’ll… I’ll be alright.” _I think_.

He nodded, slowly, and took one step closer as if he couldn’t stop himself, face soft and concerned, but she couldn’t deal with it right now, not when her whole organism seemed to be working _against_ her, so she retreated that same step, keeping their distance.

He stopped, his frown deepening. “Uh. Is there anything… I can do to help, or…”

She wanted to snap at him, tell him _no, thanks, you’re just bothering_ , but she couldn’t do that. It would be a lie, too. He wasn’t _bothering her_ , he was just… being kind. It simply happened that she wasn’t in any state to _accept_ kindness.

Instead, she took another shaky breath, and looked around. She could send him to the kitchens, ask him for a cup of tea, but she wasn’t sure if that would be the best option, either. She could…

She glanced in the direction of the doors of the TARDIS, thoughtful. If she had got her time right — and she was _sure_ it was right; Sexy wasn’t one to play around when things were serious —, Missy would be here at any moment, and she could do with a moment to gather her own thoughts. If she were even capable of that.

She licked her lower lip — and her mouth felt so _dry_ , she wanted to drink a river, but also, she felt like she would throw up if she put anything in her stomach. Was she sick? Fuck. “You could…” She swallowed, forcing her throat to work. “You could go see if Missy’s here. Bring her here to me. Please.”

He nodded, just as slowly as before, and took a step back. “Uh, will she… just, _be_ there or…?”

She shook her head — though the movement turned out to be disturbingly dizzying, and she promised herself not to do so again until she felt better. “She might be in her TARDIS.”

He made a small sound of understanding. “So, look for a blue box?”

Sexy vwromped in protest, the sound audible instead of projecting it, for once, and the Doctor laughed, even when the sound jarred some things inside her head that she didn’t even know she had.

“No, no,” she corrected, snorting. “Hers is… well. I think her cloaking circuit still works… but, last time I saw her, it was a red telephone box.”

Graham shook his head, lips twitching into a smile. “Of course. A blue police box and a red telephone box. Why didn’t I think of that? — anyway, okay. So, go out there, see if Missy… the Master?… has arrived, bring her here.”

She nodded, thankful as it seemed that Graham was leaving. He lingered for a moment longer by the doors, though, and she prepared herself for… something.

Instead, he just shook his head and offered her a shaky smile before stepping out. She got a glimpse of the world outside — silvery grass extending to the edge of her vision and a dark night sky that glittered with billions of stars — before the doors fell shut again on her.

She leaned against the console, supporting her weight on the familiar metal under her hands and focusing her sight on the central pillar. Usually, she would be reaching out, letting Sexy’s song wash over her, grounding her in the space-time of _now_. This time, however, she just focused on the milimetric movement of the pillar, a similar to the Time Rotor kept within. It was something familiar. Something… calming.

She allowed herself to breathe — slow inhalations, long exhalations. She counted her doubled heartsbeat to herself, letting time trickle in slowly. It was almost time for Missy to arrive, she was sure. The time had been said in London Earth’s timezone, since Missy knew that was the one the Doctor favoured, considering her companions, and if the Doctor had her equations right, Graham should find her in… half a minute or so.

She breathed out, clenching her hands and pushing herself away from the console. Her mind was still dizzy, her body was still _too-hot-too-cold_ , and her stomach still hurt, but at least her brain seemed to be quieter and her hearts were more settled.

And, either way, Sexy was buzzing anxiously in a way that had to mean one of two things: either Yaz and Ryan had broken their promises and were coming to check on her (which she doubted, since, _Yaz_ ), or Missy had arrived and was heading this way.

Since her hearts sang pleasantly in her chest instead of churning with illness, she’d guess it was the second option.

She turned to look at the doors just as they opened, her time sense being perfectly right for once; through the doors, Missy strode, hair pulled into a tight knot and leather jacket smelling of _sweets-leather-warmth-home_. The Doctor lurched forwards, feeling herself tremble as she burrowed into Missy’s arms, desperate to find coolness to ease her fire and calm to quiet her mind.

“Oh dear,” murmured Missy in her ear, thankfully not projecting in her mind, but building durable walls between them, instead. “It seems like you’ve caught a fever yet again.”

_Well, that explained the hot-cold._

She moaned softly, hiding her face against Missy’s neck. This close, it was impossible to ignore Missy’s scent, and the Doctor was thankful to notice that, despite all the years between them, she still smelled like little Koschei. She still smelled like she belonged with the Doctor. Like _home_.

Like _hers_. Her Koschei. Koschei and Theta. Koschei and Theta, out to see the universe. Koschei and Theta against their world.

She found herself mouthing, words spilling through her lips dizzyingly, though she couldn’t quite grasp them, couldn’t quite understand what it was, exactly, she was speaking. She just knew she _was_ speaking, something to bind herself to Koschei, something… something _important_ …

She blinked, eyelids heavy in her face, and clenched her hands into the tightest fists she could, grasping at leather and a soft shirt and… and…

She opened her eyes, and time had passed. She had lost time, actually, because the time they were in was _much_ further along than before, and tasted of… universe?

“The Time Vortex.” Koschei — _no, not Koschei, not anymore,_ she corrected herself with a groan — _Missy_ said, apparently just waiting for her to wake up. “Best not to linger any traceable place while you’re like this.”

She struggled to sit up — finally recognizing the room she was in as her own, with the blue comforter and the view of the universe over her and _too many things_ tossed around —, and found hands helping her out, even when she hadn’t asked for it.

“Your fever has decreased, at least.” Missy continued, one hand resting on her forehead as the Doctor was allowed to lean back against her headboard. “How’s your head?”

She obeyed the unspoken command promptly, checking on it; her head felt… heavy. But not quite as dizzy or _loud_ anymore. She felt… a bit out of it, still, but not…

“Okay-ish,” she replied coherently. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, hm. And her mouth was still dry, now that she thought about it. “Water?” She croaked pitifully, making her best pleading eyes at Missy.

It was terribly effective, seeing how it wasn’t actually all that faked.

A glass of water hit her nose, and she recoiled slightly from the feeling of cold against her — clearly, she wasn’t _entirely_ in the right temperature yet —, but accepted it with a thankful smile.

“If you allow me, I can build you some defences. Your mind was always too messy; it usually doesn’t _matter_ all that much, but as you are right now, it is possible that a single brush with another telepath just might send you into an even stronger shock.”

She downed the proffered water quietly, thinking about the proposition. It would be _good_ to have defences again, to be secure from every brush of… _everything_. However, it would also mean she’d have to open up for _Missy_ ; for _the Master_ , the same person who’d once brainwashed the whole of humanity just for kicks.

It was… awfully scary to think about.

“I’ll… consider,” she murmured, lowering the half-drained glass to her lap. _In the meanwhile…_ “Do you know what caused… this?”

Missy startled as if she had forgotten about it, staring at her with unblinking eyes for a moment before nodding, sharply.

“Right. _This_ ,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair — that was free of its knot, the Doctor noticed, falling softly and curled around her face — and coughing almost awkwardly. “Congratulations, my dear Doctor.” She quirked a small smile, eyes half amused and half worried. “You are _officially_ a female.”

The Doctor frowned, thinking her words through.

She had said she was a female from her introduction, hadn’t she? She was sure Missy had asked something about whether she felt comfortable as female or not… or maybe that had been last time around?

She shook her head slightly — and was thankfully surprised to find it didn’t mess with her head as badly, this time —, and stared at Missy with questioning eyes.

“You know how you have been craving sweets these past few months, dear?” Missy took the glass from her hands, touch light and cooling against her skin as their hands brushed. “Well. I am honoured to tell you that it has a reason.”

Missy sat by the Doctor’s side, one hand cupping the Doctor’s chin with much more intimacy than the Doctor had been expecting, the other supporting herself by the Doctor’s head on the headboard. This close, the Doctor could see the flecks of burning stars in Missy’s eyes, the swirl of time. Her smell was also heavy over the Doctor’s senses, heavy and _welcome_ , the aching pull of time and space and _Gallifrey_ (or, at least, all that the Doctor had loved from Gallifrey).

It… reminded her of a time eons ago. Of sitting on red grass and drinking the starlight with longing, with _hunger_ in their eyes.

This time, though, Missy looked at her with a curious quirk of her lips, with something akin to fondness in her eyes, and not the surety of _belonging_ , the four-beats of a lullaby in their breaths.

“This body,” Missy said slowly, breath mingling with the Doctor’s own. “Is very much capable of reproduction, it seems.” She quirked a wry grin, leaning in until their foreheads rested together. “Congratulations, Thete,” she whispered, as if they were children yet again. “You have created a womb in yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm changing my posting pattern 'cuz of classes. Soooo... now it's a chapter every other day, yaaay...


	15. i've never fallen from quite this high

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that tag about OOC characters? I have special moment of it here. The Doctor is acting a bit oddly, but I hope it’s excusable, knowing she’s on her period and doesn’t really like it? Ah. Well.  
> Again, “period” is a very broad term; the Doctor is an alien, and I made her period something very… bizarre, I guess, for us. Mainly because I’m not too good at writing periods, sorry (though I am a female and go through it myself… but, hey, I _did_ focus on things I know — like, migraines and nausea and all the other fuck I’ve gone through before/during my periods, so, ehhh…).  
> But, hey! It’s a fluff chapter!
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. The song of the time is “ocean eyes” by Billie Eilish.**

**Chapter 15**

After a bit of a panic attack and many defeated groans — when she accepted to be a _woman_ , this time around, she hadn’t quite signed herself into _fertility_ (she should have… thought about it, she acknowledged now, but she was so used to regenerating into sterile bodies — it was the norm for Time Lords, after all —, she had even _forgotten_ it was an option. She’d been sterile in every one of her bodies since…) —, she finally allowed herself to stop and _think_.

“Okay.” She sighed, rather noisily, and nodded. “Okay. So. Womb. Fertile. Uh… is this…”

Missy snorted, retreating from her side with the clear need to keep some distance between them now that the moment had passed. “You’re on your period, dear.”

She groaned again, hiding her face in her hands. “ _Great_ ,” she grumbled against her own palms. “F’king _great_.”

“I gather it’s your first since your first body, then.” Missy commented airily, but her tone had an edge of worry to it that the Doctor remembered from… well. The _last_ time she’d been like this.

She raised her head and nodded slightly to her friend. “Yeah. Never quite felt the need to go through _this_ again,” she waved a shaky hand over herself. “Feels fucking _awful_.”

Missy snorted with all the uncanny bluntness of one who’s utterly _done_ and over with it, looking at her from over her own shoulders. “Well, dear; there’s a _reason_ why our people decided that Looms were a much better option.” Her lips pulled into a tiny smirk. “And not just because they are _ice cubes_.”

She laughed despite herself, stretching hesitantly to test whether she could release the pressure on her stomach without dying or not. _Well; she doubted she’d actually die, but it certainly felt like that, at times,_ she thought glumly. But, no, it felt okay, now. Her stomach (her, her _womb_ , she realized with some distant horror born from growing up hearing how _ridiculous_ this method of reproduction was) was still feeling… _queasy_ , but she felt… better.

 _Missy_ made her better, she remembered. Having another Gallifreyan around helped — another Time Lord, she suspected, was even better —, having someone with the same psychic waves had always calmed her down.

Still. Now she could move without feeling like dying, she so _wasn’t_ staying in bed.

“Well…” She began, putting one careful foot on the ground. She was still sat down so it was hard to tell for sure, but she felt good enough to stand, now. “I’m tired of this room already. I want… sweets. Many sweets. Chocolate! Or… hm…” she thought about it, humming hard. A delightful idea found her, and she grinned broadly. “Or _chocolate popcorn_! Miss, Miss! Let’s see a _movie_!”

Missy stared at her for a moment, mouth parted slightly and brows furrowed in a way the Doctor hadn’t seen in, what was it, _centuries_? But Missy shook her head and smoothed her face, and the Doctor was forced to let it go.

“Very well. I take it you have a… _cinema_ in here somewhere?” She waved one hand over to the doors — TARDIS’s blue, of course — of the Doctor’s room. In answer, before the Doctor could budge up some words, Sexy hummed, delighted, and projected at them the image of her latest cinemas. It was _incredible_. “Of course you have.”

Missy continued sniping something, but the Doctor was too busy being delighted at being able to hear her TARDIS without pain once again, sending wave after wave of affection and apologies and so much _love_ to her ship and most loyal friend.

In response, she got a soothing song she had learnt when she was just a child, first sneaking away with this TARDIS around her. The one that had always meant, _‘i love you too’_.

“You could at least _pretend_ to be listening to me, Theta.”

The Doctor looked at Missy — at her _Koschei_ — with wide eyes, a second from gaping, but Missy was already leaving, door left open for her to follow.

As always, she did.

**.**

The Doctor found herself craving pure honey (from the planet of bees, of course), one essence that had always reminded her of vanilla (despite not even coming from a plant), and a bowl of frozen citric flower crumbs before the chocolate popcorn was even gathered from the one shop on Earth she had come to favour these past few months.

She turned to Missy with large eyes and trembling lips, and did her best imitation of a lost puppy.

“ _Miiiiiiiiiiss_ ,” she whined softly, pulling at Missy’s hand and projecting _want-longing-desire_ with unabashed lack of subtlety.

Missy sighed loudly, pulling her hand away, but she still led the Doctor back to the TARDIS with one soft hand on her back once they were out of the shop, and the Doctor could still feel some subtle hints of resigned acceptance in Missy’s mind against hers.

“ _Just_ those three,” Missy said resolutely. The Doctor could try to argue her point, try for _more_ , but Missy’s tone also indicated that, if she did, she’d risk not getting _any_ of them, so she nodded happily, bouncing in front of her friend with high spirits and her hearts fluttering excitedly.

The way back to the TARDIS is done quickly, with unimportant banter being tossed back and forth. The Doctor would feel ashamed of how she doesn’t even remember what’s being said, but all she can feel is so damn _elated_ by being able to do this with Missy, with Koschei, when just a couple centuries ago the mere fact the two of them are in the same place would mean the planet-slash-universe in question to be in grave danger of being undone.

Piloting the TARDIS with two was much easier than it is to do so on one’s own. The Doctor knew that. It still took her by surprise when she stood across Missy and they _worked together_ , flying Sexy to the elated song of her ship in their minds, the universe and time soaring them by with ease. It reminded the Doctor of better days; of promises that fell through, and of another love she still held in her hearts.

Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.

The TARDIS dematerialized and rematerialized on the planet of the bees. Later, after the Doctor had somehow managed to insult the Queen of the Hive they had stopped in to gather some honey, they ran back to the TARDIS with laugh in their voices, even as Missy reprimanded her for being _“an utterly ridiculous old woman”_.

The stop to get them the essence, at least, was much easier. The Doctor _did_ manage to convince Missy to buy her some more assorted candies, since they were _already there_ , and the Doctor was left stupidly happy while she munched away at some not-gummy bears that _looked_ a lot like gummy bears, piloting her half of the TARDIS one-handedly.

And despite annoying the hell out of Missy, she didn’t even take it out on the forest with the citric flowers, so the Doctor was _sure_ she hadn’t failed _that_ spectacularly when she tried to teach her friend kindness.

Of course, the Doctor’s luck had to run out at some point, and it ran out just as they finished with gathering the “three” sweets.

“Oh _joy_ ,” muttered Missy, closing the doors behind them manually even though she knew the Doctor could close them with a snap. The Doctor took it to mean she wanted no part of this conversation, and was… half amused by it. “Your _pets_ are here.”

“ _Missy!_ ” She hissed, offended on their behalf as she always was when Missy insulted her friends like that. “Don’t say things like that!”

“Of course, dear,” Missy simpered back, brushing past her with her nose in the air. “The _children_ are here, then.” She turned to them, sickeningly sweet smile on her face. “Mummy and mummy are busy, if you children could just… _chop off_ , we would be _ever_ so grateful.”

The Doctor rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to flick Missy on the back of the head with much use of patience. Turning to her friends, she found concern and some indignation on their faces, and knew Missy hadn’t done _much_ damage, despite herself.

“Sorry. Uh. What happened? Ev’rything okay?” She frowned worriedly, stepping closer to them. Sexy was broadcasting the shade of their emotions once again, and she mostly gathered a lot of concern and worry and…

She realized what might be the issue just as Yaz took it upon herself to answer.

“We felt the TARDIS dematerialize a couple times in sequence, and you were feeling sick, last we saw you. Did you… need a hospital, or something…?”

She felt herself flush a bit at the realization she had _forgotten_ to tell her friends she was feeling better. Uh.

“Sorry,” she muttered, scratching at her nape. “Uh, it’s nothing. Just. Uh.” She flushed even harder. “Just… a bad case of…” Missy snickering at her back was _certainly_ not helping matters, she decided, grimacing lightly, whole face burning up. “I’m on my period.” She admitted in a mutter.

“Sorry, what?” Graham’s face was a mix of amusement, concern and embarrassment, and the Doctor felt relieved to not be the only one blushing, at last. “I’m pretty sure I heard you say _period_?”

She nodded, pouting slightly as Ryan snorted at her response.

“Well, mate; you’re a girl. Doesn’t that usually happen once a month or something?” Ryan asked, lips twitching in amusement.

“To _humans_ ,” she replied archly. And she was _very thankful_ about that. The idea of having to go through this _every month_ …

“So, you, what, have it every decade?” Ryan asked, clearly curious despite the way his mind was also reeling back at both the reminder of _alien_ and the type of talk. She was surprised he had even held so well this far. “I guess that’s better than most…”

Missy pushed her out of the way, Sexy whirring back to movement as her song picked up the pace. “Try every half century.”

She tilted her head in agreement, “And thank Omega for that.”

Yaz perked back up, curiosity and worry bleeding through her. “Is it really that bad? Do you need some medication or something? Oh, do you have tampons and pads?”

 _:Tampons and pads?:_ Missy asked in her head, amused.

 _:21st century humans,:_ she reminded Missy with a shake of her head. Out loud, she said, “No, it’s fine, now. Missy’s presence dulls most of the symptoms.” _More like, her presence stabilized the Doctor’s whole system._ For the sake of security, she checked it out again — her blood rate was back to her normal, her temperature seemed to have settled close to the normal (though still a bit higher than Missy’s, she could feel), her pains were gone, and her mind could handle simple telepathy, as it was. “And it’s mostly a problem of my system reforming itself to adapt to any possible tot, instead of a… discharge of hormones, as it is for humans. No medication you know of would help. I don’t even… have a flux, not really — just of pheromones, I suppose, and telepathic waves.”

Yaz nodded, still worried and now clearly bothered by the inability to help, but mostly settled, too.

“Then… what _were_ you doing, Doc?” Graham piped up, looking around vaguely.

“Oh! Right!” She beamed at them. Missy seemed to be mostly messing with the consoles of the TARDIS, now, seeing how she could feel them in the Vortex, but if she wanted to do that, she’d let her. “We’re gonna watch a movie. Want to come with?”

Ryan peered around her, and whatever it is he saw, he shook his head very quickly. “Nah. I’m good, thanks. Gonna take a nap, I guess.”

Graham agreed with Ryan quickly. Yaz, though, she seemed to be inclined to disagree, until Missy layered herself over the Doctor’s shoulders, possessive and cool and _damn heavy_.

“Yeah. We’ll see you later, Doctor.”

They left, leaving behind just the Doctor and Missy in the console room.

As soon as they were alone, Missy huffed, loud and annoyed in the Doctor’s ear, her hand holding the Doctor’s elbow tightly to her, and muttered, “Finally. Was starting to think I’d have to threaten some of them for they to leave us alone.”

The Doctor spun around, another indignant complaint in her tongue, when she saw Missy’s soft eyes and charming smile and forgot all about it for half a minute.

“Uh. Right.” She gathered herself. “Uh. Let’s… go find ourselves something ridiculous to watch?”

Missy’s smile spread infectiously over her face, and the Doctor found herself answering it before she could stop herself.

(She found she didn’t _want_ to stop herself)

“Of course, dear.” Missy touched her on the cheek, lingering and sweet, and the Doctor leaned into it. “Though I do hope you’ll indulge me with something at least _a bit_ violent, yes?”

She sighed — but she was laughing, at the same time, and maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

“Who knows.” She allowed, taking Missy’s hand in hers. “Help me with the food and I’ll see what I can do.”

-

(They watched something violent and bloody and stupidly romantic, somehow. It involved three dimensions, four different languages, seven galaxies of music, and a universe-forgotten star tale. The Doctor loved every second of it, and from the way Missy criticized every minute of it, the Doctor knew _she_ had, too.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news: ch17 has their first kiss, at last! And next chapter (16) has a "date". So, we coming to the romance bit of the story!


	16. i'm not giving up (i'm just giving in)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys ready for romance? Because we are there, at last! Like I said last time, here we have our first date... ish. And next chapter we’ll have our first kiss! So, despite everything, we _did_ get there.  
> (Also, very proud of myself for making a romance story... a _romance_ story, and not just some gen fic where the characters _happen_ to be together...)  
> (though, give me a heads up if anything is too strange; aro/ace with no experience but the stories I've read. Sometimes I miss the guts of things...)
> 
> Say “goodbye” to the gang again. Because that’s what I do when in doubt, haha.
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. Song is “Never Let Me Go” by Florence + the Machine.**   
>  _(this particular song was not on my playlist as I wrote this story, but I really enjoyed the lyrics, so…)_

**Chapter 16**

The Doctor rematerialized the TARDIS on Earth, 21st century, half a day after she last dematerialized from it.

“So, where are we, Doc?” Graham asked, looking around the console room curiously. “You’ve been kind of distracted… I mean, I understand you’re not feeling too good, but, well, I didn’t expect you to call us here so suddenly.”

She grinned at them, feeling embarrassed and guilty, but shrugged it off easily. “Well. I brought you to the best place in the universe!” She spread her arms largely, spinning lightly. She didn’t dare spin too much, or even touch them, because Missy was still too far away, all the way on the library, and her mind was buzzing again now that Missy’s scent wasn’t as heavy in her nose anymore, and she wasn’t sure whether she could handle anyone else or not.

“Oh?” Yaz perked up, grinning excitedly. “Is this Ancient Egypt again? Oooor, better yet, _Mesopotamia_?” Her eyes widened. “Or _the beginning of Earth_?”

Ryan snorted by her side, rolling his eyes softly. “Right. You thinking too _Earthy_ , human-girl,” he teased gently, ribbing her. “Why stop on Earth?” He turned to the Doctor with laughter in his eyes. “Did you bring us to see the _Big Bang_?”

She blinked slowly, tilting her head to the side. “Well, I’ll be sure to make notes of these locations, if you want to see them.” She allowed, shaking her head with amusement. “But, no. None of that. Though Yaz is mostly correct; we _are_ on Earth.”

Graham, of course, took the moment they were discussing to go on and _cheat_. Cheating Graham. She stuck her tongue out at him as she heard the doors of the TARDIS fall open.

“Doc? This looks a lot like Sheffield.”

She tossed her head back, nodding sharply. “Yes, well. Like I said; best place in the universe: _home_!”

They groaned softly — she refused to think it was about her attempt at a pun; did they even understand it as a pun? — but she waved it off with all the ease of one who’s done this countless times before.

“C’mon, don’t you miss your family? And you’ve got a job, Yaz. I can’t just kidnap you guys for _years_ on end.”

She’d done that before, of course, but it had been _different_ ; she hadn’t ever taken someone with a _constant_ job before. Or, well, not in a long time, at least. The closest to that had been… Martha, she supposed; with her big family and her school to finish. Oh, and there was Rory, at the very end, with his… _job_ and his… _responsibilities_.

“I’m just dropping you off for a quick while. Give you the week — or do you prefer the month?” She shook her head. “Anyway. I’ll drop you off, and when I’ve run through my period, I’ll be back. I promise. It’s just best if you’re… not around while I’m… ah. At this.”

Ryan snorted, soft and weak-sounding, but offered her a small grin — and the Doctor made the decision to pretend it didn’t seem just a bit too hesitant, just this tiny bit too _doubting_.

“Yeah, right. Well, guess we’ll go to our _jobs_ , then, and leave you to your star-gazing.”

Yaz looked over her shoulders to the interior of the TARDIS, but there was nothing there to be seen, the Doctor knew. She was looking the same way, after all, waiting for Missy to turn up; somehow, she didn’t.

(The Doctor wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not)

“And maybe you’ll… _define_ things with your… friend? I think it’d be easier without us around, as well.” Yaz asked, slowly, raising an eyebrow in the Doctor’s direction.

She felt herself flush, but smiled at them, thankful. “Maybe,” she admitted. She certainly _wanted to_ , at least. “C’mon, you lot. Team TARDIS will be reconvening in…”

They looked at each other, long seconds of silence and awkward glancing, before Graham shrugged. “I have some things to take care of. And you’re right, of course, Yaz needs to take care of her job before she forgets how to be a cop.” They glanced at each other again, with a nod. “Maybe two weeks?”

She nodded, happy to have it agreed. “Two weeks, then. Uh, just to make sure, when’s that?”

Ryan laughed, sounding much more trusting this time, and told her.

She knew, of course, but it never hurt to make sure her friends knew she knew. She’d learned that years ago, and it was such an easy thing to do…

When they left, she was grinning, soft and warm in her TARDIS, even as she felt Missy nearing, the quieting of her mind falling over her comfortingly.

Well, then. She had a star to see; better yet, she had a star to _show her friend_.

She spun back around, dematerializing Sexy from Earth. Her objective was four billion light years away, in a different galaxy, and she was decided to get there with no help.

**.**

_The advantage of having a lower body temperature_ , she decided bouncing in place as she waited for Missy to take her fill of the star around them, _is in being capable of seeing things like this._

She had wanted to go with Koschei to a frozen planet ever since she first heard of it, back when they were still children learning of the worlds beyond Gallifrey. Centuries had gone past, and she had never been able; she had been to worlds like that, of course. Many times, even. It was one of her favourite sights, after all, and she was always happy to show it to her friends, to her…

_To the ones she loved the most._ She had decided, back when they were children, that this was a perfect date setting, and she had never regretted it. Rose had certainly loved it, the one time she had gone with the girl to that one planet where everything had frozen in the middle of a battle. And _River_ ; it was one of their favourite things to do during peace: dance in the frozen lakes of every single planet they could find. But this was different. This was _Koschei_. The original intender of all this, the one the Doctor…

The one the Doctor wanted to amaze the most, if she were being honest.

So, she pulled all the stops, and found herself a frozen star, despite the fact that stars simply weren’t made to run cold. Just because it was _different_ , because she knew it would be empty, because she knew it would be _beautiful_.

And it was. It was _gorgeous_. The whole star was frozen deep to the core; it reminded her of that one nightmare she had shared with Amy and Rory, when the nightmare dust had entered the TARDIS — except it wasn’t _killing her_. Instead, it made the whole world come alive; frozen fractals floating in mid-air, and so much space for them to skate on, if they wanted.

She wanted to. She really, _really_ did.

“So?” She prompted when the silence extended too long, nudging against Missy’s side. “What do you think?”

Slowly — so damn _slowly_ , she thought her hearts would run out of her chest waiting —, Missy turned around. For one hearts breaking moment, the Doctor thought she’d hate it; thought Missy would chide her for being stupid, and ridiculous and… and _something_. But, instead, Missy smiled, large and childlike, and so full of _wonder_ , and the Doctor found herself leaning in, sharing her warmth and glee.

“Oh, Thete.” Missy laughed, voice choked up in her throat. “You _remembered_.”

The Doctor took her hand in hers, feeling Missy’s cool warmth even through their two layers of clothing, and held her close. “Of course I did.” She looked around, laying her head on Missy’s shoulder. “I never even forgot, to begin with.”

They held each other for a moment, the contact allowing them to share their wonder, their feelings of _beauty-starstruck-wonder-affection-apologies_ , just looking at all the white and blue and _ice_ around them, all the frozen and eternal _beautiful_ things held still in this moment. Just for them.

“Sometimes, I wondered if it had even been real.”

The Doctor held her hand tighter, feeling the sincerity and fear bleeding through their bond. She pushed back a warm wave of love and devotion and so many things she had tried to keep quiet for so long, hating the way Missy sounded so _small_.

“Of course it was.” _Not just the promise._ “You and me; it was _always_ real.”

_:Even when I thought you were mad,:_ she admitted. _:And even when I thought we would kill each other and never look back.:_

Their heartsbeats echoed loudly between them; for once, though, it had nothing to do with the war drums.

Instead, it was just _them_.

“So…” the Doctor murmured, when the silence extended too long and emotions threatened to suffocate her, when Missy’s scent was everything she could smell and Missy’s heartsbeat was everything she could hear. “I have ice skates in the TARDIS.”

Missy’s hand clenched around her once more before pulling back. Her face held a mischievous grin and some of that childlike wonder still, and the Doctor allowed her to slip away, knowing it was too much too soon.

“I race you to the deep end of this forgotten place,” teased Missy, accent thick in her Gallifreyan. “You and me. Whoever wins might ask whatever they wish from the loser.”

The Doctor bowed mockingly, fingers itching to hold Missy’s once again, even as she felt herself light up.

“Oh, you’re _on_.”

And, this time, she knew exactly what to ask.

**.**

She won.

Of course she did. She’d been ice skating for _centuries_ now, and Koschei had always been too busy burning every planet she fell on to just take the time to _enjoy_ them.

She sighed and forced herself to remember that yes, that was true, but Missy had _changed_. She had _changed_. And the prove of that was in how Missy just tossed her head back, laughing, when she fell by the Doctor’s side, their breaths fogging the air before their faces and coats feeling almost too hot on their bodies.

“Well done, dear. You’ve won.”

She grinned back, hearts still accelerated and a bit out of breath, but happier than she had felt in a couple days.

“I did.” She agreed, sliding closer to Missy, her skates silent on the new ice under their feet. “That means I’ve got the right to a wish, right?”

Missy offered her a small grin that was adorably lopsided, her hair over-mussed in a way the Doctor knew Missy would _hate_ if she could see it, but it just made her look younger — though a _bit_ crazy, but that was almost the norm with Missy, if she were being honest.

“You do, dear. I always keep my promised, do I not?”

The Doctor couldn’t help but swell with pride at how Missy managed to _contain_ the ‘unlike you’ that _must_ have been brewing underneath that. Just a couple faces back (hell, even her _last_ ) would have _loved_ to toss it back on the Doctor’s face. _This_ was as good a proof of Missy’s growth as anything.

“Well!” She bounced back up, spreading her arms excitedly. “So — want to dance?”

An eyebrow raised as her answer, but Missy did gather herself back up, shaking her hair back into place.

“A dance?”

She nodded happily. “Yep! A dance. You and me. Here.”

“In skates.”

“Yep!”

Missy’s laughter wasn’t _required_ , and the Doctor was almost sure she was being mocked, but she wouldn’t drop it, either, so let her laugh.

“You serious.”

“Of course I am!” She protested with a pout. “I’m always serious.” At Missy’s raised eyebrow, she corrected herself. “Well. _Almost_ always. But, anyway, I’m serious _now_! I want a dance. With you. Here. On the ice.”

Missy tilted her head, looking at her with strange eyes the Doctor couldn’t quite quiz. Still, she offered her a hand the Doctor took gracefully. Ish. With some stumbling on the way closer, but _mostly_ gracefully.

“Well then, dear,” Missy murmured, tuning her voice low and husky once again, a small smirk playing on the corner of her lips. “Would you give me the honour?”

She laughed, “Oh, with _pleasure_!”

It was so _easy_ , too, this time. To just _trust_ Missy. Let her swirl her around wherever and however she wanted. To lean into Missy’s arms and not let go, to hold her and pull her closer whenever they started drifting too far apart. To _move_ — as one, hearts clamouring loudly in their own unique song, breaths mingling in their fogs, feet stumbling over each other in the slippery ice beneath them.

It was pleasurable. _Fun_. Something _theirs_ — of these faces of theirs, the Doctor decided. As Theta and Koschei they had had ballroom dancing in the stuffy parties of Gallifrey; as Sandshoes and Master of Earth, they had had crazy dances to the annoying songs the Master had favoured; and just on their last faces they had had _songs_ just theirs, guitar and piano mixing together. Now, however, they had _this_ : fun, silliness, dancing for no reason but to _dance_.

Even in the ice.

They danced their way back to the TARDIS, much laughter in the air and some falls on the way, but, more importantly, _together_. The two of them. _Just_ the two of them, in a world of ice and fun and…

_Love_.


	17. a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Kiss, kiss fall in love!_ At last, at long last, here it is! 17 chapters (and +40k words…) in and they kissed. _The Doctor and Missy sitting on a tree…_  
>  (Am I in a good mood? Ehh...)  
> This one is a very fluff-oriented chapter. It’s pure romance and heart-warming feels: enjoy!
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. The song is “Two” by Sleeping At Last. And “Let It Go”, of course, by Demi Lovato and Disney's Frozen.**   
>  _(“I will love you with every single thing I have” — Two is adorably romantic, for those interested. I think this one fits this chapter perfectly, really…)_

**Chapter 17**

After sequestering themselves back into the TARDIS, where even the cool warmth Missy preferred felt like bloody _heaven_ to her, the Doctor decided she valued her life too much to try and dress Missy up as Elsa.

But not enough to refrain from singing, in very loud volume as she followed her friend around, _“Let it go, let it go, I’m one with the wind and sky! Let it go, let it go, you’ll never see me cry!”_

She _probably_ should have refrained from it, too, but. _C’mon_! That had been _so_ Frozen worthy!

Missy, though, clearly did not agree with her. “Dear?”

She looked up, eyes wide as she saw Missy standing _right there_ , staring at her with the sweetest, most dangerous smile she had in her arsenal. She shivered a bit, taking half a step back from the _dangerdangerdanger_ flashing in her head.

Missy was quicker, a hand closing over her shoulder before she could finish the movement, and leaning so close the Doctor could count each one of her eyelashes, if she wanted to.

“Yes?” She managed to speak, voice trembling just the tiniest bit. It was so damn _hard_ to look _away_ … Missy’s lips looked so bloody _red_ , flushed from biting them, a bit from the exertion she’d guess, and still with a little smudge of lipstick. And her scent. Her _scent_ was so _heavy_ …

Those same lips were moving. That used to mean something, right? Right. Right, Missy was speaking. Probably.

“…back off now, if you don’t want to proceed like this.”

She blinked, slowly, trying to process the lost words — and then Missy leaned even further into her space, cutting those last few centimetres between them.

_This_ Missy’s lips were soft. Awfully soft. Chapped, too, the Doctor realized; from the cold, perhaps? And tasted of cherry lipstick. She’d never have guessed _that_.

(Except, hadn’t she? Back on that first day?)

Then, Missy’s free hand curled around her nape, pressing _just right_ on the jumble of nerves hidden beneath her hair, and she cut herself short in whatever thought she was in the process of having, moaning softly against Missy, feeling only _MissyMissyKoscheiHers_.

Koschei’s thoughts mingled against hers easily, a wave of fondness and devotion and so much _history_. Something that tasted of _them_ , just them, and reminded her of home — but only the _good_ parts of home, for once. And Koschei’s taste on her tongue was sweet and tangy and tangible, drowning out everything else.

_:Mine:_

They parted only when their respiration bypasses were failing them, hands tightened for hold on each other, unwilling to part even as they drew some distance between their faces.

In the Doctor’s mind, words swirled, chaotic and hurried, and she didn’t know if they were hers or Koschei’s. If the _desire_ and the _ownership_ were something she was feeling or something Koschei was projecting.

It didn’t matter, either way.

“That…” she mumbled, but her voice was even weaker than she’d have thought, and she had to swallow and try again twice before she managed to continue. “That was _incredible_. How long has it been…?”

Koschei smiled, teasing and charming, and brushed a light kiss against her cheekbone that left her hearts fluttering out of control.

“Oh, dear. I think we’ve been here since the beginning, have we not?”

She swallowed again — swallowing with it all the jumbled thoughts she couldn’t make a sense of. “Yes. Yes, of course,” she agreed, weak. “But. Last times…”

Koschei’s snort was soft on her face, still smelling of herself, of course, but also smelling of _the Doctor_ , and the Doctor felt weak-kneed at it.

“We were busier trying to stop each other.” Finished Koschei with much more dignity than the Doctor thought should be possible in this kind of situation. She was just admitting to have been spending the last couple decades (centuries, _millennia_ ) _trying to kill her,_ after all. They had spent the last couple millennia trying to kill _each other_ , to be more honest, but still…

“And, anyway, we always managed to get something like this in there somewhere, don’t you agree?”

The Doctor _might_ or might not be flushing, and she would always choose to believe she was _not_ , given the choice.

Still, unbidden, memories of every other… _such instance_ … with Koschei flashed back to her mind. From their very first kiss shared on the red hills behind the Academy, smelling of dust and failed experiments, to the latest one before this one, when the Doctor was still an old Scotsman and Missy was promising to be absolutely good in her test trial.

(And so many other kisses in-between, the Doctor had to admit. So many more instances of them… sneaking around the rules. Moments on Earth, when they met and had just a moment alone between their mutual hunting. Moments on burning planets, when the Master tried to surprise the Doctor with a kiss or something else to stop the Doctor from stopping _him_. Moments on Valiant, where they had managed to find themselves something… particular to them, even while the Earth burned underneath them and the Doctor was the Master’s prisoner. Moments on their last regeneration, in between Cybermen and Skaro and Clara, or moments in the Vault, for 70 years were too many years without any form of comfort)

“Maybe,” she agreed biting her lower lip. “But like _this_?”

_:Not since Gallifrey, don’t you think?:_

Koschei tilted his head, a look of understanding in his eyes. Their foreheads fell to each other with a soft thud, and Koschei’s smile was so bright the Doctor could see nothing else, for a moment.

In her mind, underneath a thundering echo of four heartsbeats and a humming song she could never forget, she heard, : _I believe you just might be right, Thete_ ,: and knew, more than at any other point, she had been right.

Koschei _was_ changed, after all.

… or not so much, she thought with laughter as Missy decked her on the head, face morphing back into that sweet threatening stance she had taken before all of this.

“And if you _dare_ sing that again, dear…”

(Her hearts soared within her, and she dared _hope_ , for a moment. Just this one moment.)

**.**

Later, when the Doctor had found herself alone in her room, staring at the stars above her, she had feared _it_ would change _everything_ between them.

Somehow, instead, it changed nothing — _and_ everything at the same time.

Missy was still Missy and was still the Master. It just happened that, sometimes, she was also Koschei — much more frequently than before, but not really; they had always been the same person, after all.

Missy was still an annoying person who seemed to be out to screw with the Doctor, no matter how; this time around, though, it seemed to involve more pranks and shutting her off with kisses, at times, and generally less murdering around.

The Master was still a control freak, and still struck back whenever they thought the Doctor had done something against them. It wasn’t even _new_ , them using kisses or sexual innuendos to strike back at the Doctor; it was just surprising how often it _didn’t_ end up with the Doctor alone in her room, afterwards.

And Koschei… when Koschei was being Koschei, they were just… utterly… _lovely_. So _endearing_. It was so _easy_ to mingle their minds together, to be Thete and Koschei once again, just two renegades, the last two Time Lords (even when there was a whole world of them, now). It was easy to fall into old habits with them. To just play chess and criticize history books and _see the stars_.

And it was all the Doctor had ever wanted, even from back when they were kids.

And it was everything that _suited_ them. Fights and pranks and arguments in equal value. And it was _perfect_. The Doctor now knew not to expect “her own brand of good” from Missy, as Missy had put to her; Missy would never go out of her way to _save strangers_ , even if they were _together_ now. But Missy also refused to go out of her way to _screw_ with strangers, nowadays, and she never set foot on a planet thinking of how to make it burn either, these days (or, at the very least, if she did, she never acted on it), and the Doctor supposed that was as good as Missy would ever get.

It worked. It worked for Missy. It worked for _her_.

And thus, the Doctor realized, they fell back into old habits and new habits and future habits, and nothing changed _at all_.

Except, of course, the kissing. The kissing was new. For _these_ them, at least.

And at the same time, it wasn’t. Because it’s not like they were _new_ at this.

It just had been… a very, _very_ long time.

_As always_ , the Doctor thought amused, resting her hand over Missy’s own as they watched the stars swirl under them, _she had come the long way around._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (btw, I finally finished editing this story - I _might_ have taken a break somewhere by chapter 23... -, and I think it's now _mostly_ coherent through it all, but... anyway.)


	18. take me home where i belong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the domesticity continues. Because we all need a bit of fluff every now and then, and this story, as I’ve said before, is more or less plot-less, because it was meant simply as a piece of Thoschei fluff.  
> Some more headcanons ahead and bending of things that were never particularly specified in canon…
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. Song is “Runaway” by Aurora.**   
>  _(another song that reminds me a lot of DW — though not particularly of Thoschei, I guess)_

**Chapter 18**

Good things were good, and having Koschei finally letting her in was _amazing_. Still, her period raged on — and it would for at least a week more, if she were doing her maths right, though she’d guess _two_ more, seeing how she hadn’t had a period in _millennia_ —, and there were still things that came with _that_.

Like migraines. Cramps. Nausea fits. Some dizzy episodes… some woozy emotions… some lunatic psychic bursts…

But, mostly — since Missy was here to damp most of the other symptoms or at least balance them out —, there were _cravings_.

Her body required sustenance in a way it usually didn’t quite need, and her recent preference for sweets meant she wanted _the sweetest things ever_. She woke up one day (and, oh did she _hate that_ ; that was another thing she’d been suffering through: _sleeping every day_ ) with the overwhelming desire to drink pure Sugar Liquefied. Another, with the craving for white milk chocolate with flurry-cherries and dusted coloured crunchy bits of sweet almonds.

Not even her Jammie Dodgers escaped free from it.

The worst, though, she’d say had to be _this_.

“You want us to go to Gallifrey. Because you require Gallifreyan Mango-Apple Pie.”

She shrugged, offering Missy her best smile. “Well, it _can_ be Frax-Nanas Crusted Cake too, I think.”

For some reason, Missy’s glare didn’t change at all. No, lies; it did change. It became even more pronounced.

After a couple seconds of trying to convince Missy of her innocence through the deliberate use of big eyes and pouting lips, she allowed with a laugh.

“Okay, okay. I said Mango-Apple Pie because I have the ingredients in the TARDIS.” She took delight in watching how Missy’s eyes turned pensive and curious. She took even greater delight in how Missy reached out for her, hands light and calming on her wrist. “So we are not required to go to Gallifrey, as it is.”

“You want us to bake it ourselves.”

She nodded happily, hair slapping against her chin with the enthusiasm. “I mean, I’m hoping you’re still a good baker, because my last couple bodies were _awful_. I think you remember The Cake of 1990?”

Oh, she remembered perfectly, the Doctor could gather from her face. _Too_ perfectly, even, if the annoyed brush on her mind had anything to say.

“If it’s anything like that…” Missy started threateningly. She held tight to the Doctor’s wrist, though, her heartsbeat thrumming just as excitedly through her fingers as the Doctor’s own heartsbeats echoed in her ears.

The Doctor laughed, leaning in to brush her lips against Missy’s chin, “Well, darling. Guess we’ll discover it together, huh?”

Missy’s smile back was full of warmth and everything the Doctor ever wanted for them.

**.**

“Not quite what I expected.” The Doctor murmured, looking at the mess under her hands.

Missy hummed, looking over her shoulder with curiosity brimming just under her thoughts. “What is?”

She turned her head to stare at Missy, a smile appearing on her face as one of Missy’s curls caught her on the face. “Baking with you.”

Time-dusted grey eyes stared at her with such an intensity she found herself floundering for her thoughts even as she awkwardly realized Missy was speaking. “…at least you’re not as terrible, this time around.” Those lips turned up at the corner, tantalizingly, and the Doctor scrunched her nose in distaste to whatever jab would be forthcoming. “Though you sure know how to make a mess of yourself, dear.”

_As she expected…_

She stuck her tongue out in response, though she had to admit she wasn’t quite sure how her dough became so… _crusty_. While _raw_.

Missy’s laughter was silent, echoing as a feeling in her mind as she drew back.

“Pour more water in it and knead it a bit more. Not _too_ much, though. We don’t want it too tough.” Missy ordered, turning her back to the Doctor.

Her nape was so close for one second… her hair pulled high in a tight bun and the low neckline of her blouse allowing the Doctor one tantalizing view of the small bunch of nerves by the tiniest curls in her nape…

She shook her head, turning back to her work with the same focus she usually offered her inventions.

“Aye, aye, Master,” she drawled back, just for the feeling of overwhelming _heat_ that was sure to accompany her words; the heat she could always draw from Koschei with such simple words.

It was no different this time, and she bowed her head down, biting her lip as _firedesiremineminemine_ sucker-punched her, driving away any hint of a fever she could have.

_Such simple words indeed_ , she thought mischievously. How much more could she draw from Koschei before the pie was done?

Still, she did obey, because she’d like to keep her head over her neck, ta very much. As she worked, she started a little humming melody under her breath, finding it easier to ignore the utter _boringness_ with it.

She had no one song in mind, though, just mixing anything that happened to her — old lullabies she grew up hearing, folk songs of the planets she had visited, catchy songs of child movies, made up melodies she had written for her guitar… It was comforting. Oh, the work was utterly _mind numbing_ , but it was a good kind of mind numbing. A bit like twiddling with her TARDIS, really.

_:I’m happy to see you so content.:_

She looked up; Missy was looking at her from over her own counter, ripe mango-apples pulled clean apart in front of her, their green-blue tint brilliant against the dark marble. When she caught her staring, Missy offered her a small smile, hands never stopping from their own work — cleaning more mango-apples, sprinkling spices over them as she went —, and she looked so utterly…

_Domestic_.

Beautiful.

The Doctor beamed back, her own hands faltering for a moment in her kneading and her song catching in her throat for a second too long.

Here they were, _baking_ together; baking sweets from _home_ , together. Like… like a _couple_. After so long, here they were, being… _a couple_ again.

Yes, _yes_ she was content.

She was in utter _bliss_.

She sent a wave of love and warmth and _happiness_ back to Missy, and ducked her head to stare at her dough again, song picking up the pace in her hearts.

**-**

(The pie, thankfully, came out alright. The crust was a bit too rough — too tough, too _crusty_ , and a bit salty where it shouldn’t be —, but the Doctor supposed it was much better than her… _Crusty Cake_ from 1990. And, anyway, at least Missy had been smart and prohibited her from even _touching_ the filling, and _that_ tasted _amazing_. Sweet, glistening mango-apples that burst in her mouth, honey-thick and just as tasty, with just the barest hint of spices and _citrus_.

It was _perfect_ , and it reminded her of home — of red hills, of running with a hand in her own, of the Academy and being part of a group, of four-hearted songs, of _lovepromisesstars_.

It reminded her of Home, _her_ home: of _Koschei_ and the stars.)


	19. does happiness lie in a diamond ring?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you tired of fluff and domesticity yet? Because I was.  
> Sooooooo, some more angst, oops. But nothing too harsh. Just some… jealous!Missy ahead, because I’m a sucker for jealous!Master (though I’m a hard believer of polyamorous Time Lords. Or open relationships for the Doctor. Both work; on their own or together).  
> Also, I think this is the most plot we see in this story. Sorry.
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters do not belong to me. Song is “Bad Liar” by Imagine Dragons.**   
>  _(I took “wedding day” + “they argue” and made my own prompt, as I’m wont to do. So; does happiness lie in a diamond ring?)_

**Chapter 19**

She laughed, head tossed back and out of breath, hand still clutched around Missy’s with the strength of a lifeline. By her side, Missy knocked her shoulder, heavy and bony and annoyed, and she tried to cut her laugh short and offer her a simple smile instead, but she failed epically.

“It wasn’t even that funny, dear,” Missy snipped, voice tinted with annoyance and fingers twitching in a way that made the Doctor grab at her even tighter not to let her escape. “I mean, what _have_ you done, exactly?”

Managing to reduce her chortles to occasional snorts, she offered Missy a brief — if interrupted — explanation: “Oh, who knows. Could be anything; killed her sister, stole her throne, promised her some diamond, married her husband, married her daughter, married _her_ …”

She interrupted herself — words, remnants of laughter, everything — with a loud yelp, flinching away from the hand in hers with a betrayed look. She shook her hand free on the air, blowing at it softly as she felt the aftereffect of a _shock_ in her nerves, though she was pretty sure the assault had been mental.

“Why did you _do_ that?” She asked pouting at Missy, who didn’t even try to pretend she _hadn’t_ done it.

“Oh, I don’t _know_ ,” her voice was ice cold, arched so high the Doctor was surprised it didn’t fly away amongst the stars instead of rest in the TARDIS. “Maybe you should think about it, do you not think so, Doctor?”

No dear. No Thete. Just Doctor.

She clearly had screwed something big.

She grimaced, watching as Missy marched away, boots echoing heavily on the ground. She wasn’t even bothering with putting on a sway to her hips; that was a whole new level of anger the Doctor hadn’t seen from this Missy yet.

If she could just _discover_ what the hell she’d done, this time…

She tried to think about it — she had just been answering Missy when she received that shock. It hadn’t even been something she’d done out in the Ice Kingdom, just her _tale_.

She tried to separate her wording exactly, walking slowly to the console. The TARDIS hummed to life under her touch, her song worried but amused in her thoughts as she flicked the switch to let them back to the Vortex.

“’Killed her sister,’ maybe?” She wondered out loud for the lack of sound around her. The TARDIS had always been there, and most of the times, she could live with just that. But, well, there was a reason she always had friends with her; she had never dealt well with _silence_ (to be honest, there were _many_ reasons for her to travel with company. This just happened to be _one_ of them). “Angry of my… ah, how did she put it? Hypocrisy?”

Sexy did her equivalent of a shrug, trembling under her feet as her song rose and fell repeatedly out of rhythm. So, that was an option, but Sexy did not think it was the right choice. Ok, then.

“Uh… ‘stole the throne’? But, that’d be hypocrisy again, no? I mean, killing people, stealing the government… and, wow, is she _right_ …” she admitted to herself, shaking her head with a huff. “She always wanted to command an army, yet somehow, it’s always _me_ who ends up with them… she was always after being King or Queen or Emperor or Empress or _something_ , and I’m always stealing people their authority.” _For their sake,_ she could hear herself pointing out, but that didn’t change the _facts_.

She blew out, feeling shaky and _annoyed_ , more annoyed than she had any right to be, if she were being honest. She didn’t quite like being honest, though.

“Right! So, not that.” She rolled on, ignoring the pangs in her hearts and the headache building in her mind — though not a _migraine_. Was her period on its last leg? Good to know. “Not for the killing. Not for the stealing. So, what else was there…” she tapped her fingers without rhythm, a nervous energy burning through her. “Promises… broken promises. Oh, uh, yeah, that’s…”

_Not it, either_ , from the way Sexy groaned _loudly_ , shaking enough to send her tumbling to the ground.

She groaned, rubbing at her head. “Okay! Okay, I got it. Not that!”

Which left… “Married… husband, daughter, the queen…?” Sexy pinged loudly. “Oi!” She called, offended. This was _not_ a game!

… Sexy was laughing at her face, was she not?

She huffed, closing her eyes. “Hate you, too, Sexy.”

So. _Marriage_. Why was Missy angry she could have married someone?

**.**

She found Missy brooding (thoughts a dark, swallowing mess and everything) in the room she had sequestered out for herself — a book in her hands, legs crossed and a dark frown on her face as she stared at nowhere.

The Doctor leaned against the doorway, staring at her with her throat choked up. “Hey,” she called softly.

Old, timeless eyes snapped in her direction. Missy kept quiet, though, simply staring at her even as her jaw ticked with the effort she put behind gritting her teeth.

“Sorry.”

Missy raised her eyebrows slowly, tilting her head to the side with casual pensiveness that felt wrong. Still, the Doctor held quiet, waiting for her to make her next move. There was no way it would end well if she just kept pushing, after all.

“Do you even know what you are apologizing for, Doctor?” Her voice was placid, terribly so. The Doctor held a shiver in with quite a lot of effort.

“… Barely.” She admitted, finally breaking eye contact to glance over Missy’s shoulder. Missy’s eyes were so intense, so damning; they reminded her of the first time she’d seen Koschei after she’d run from Gallifrey. The first time she’d let them down. “I know you were angry at the marriage bit. I’m just… unsure why, exactly?”

Missy sighed loudly, sounding terribly put upon. The Doctor grimaced slightly, looking back at her. By doing so, she caught sight of Missy’s hands, where no book rested, not anymore. Instead, there was a ring there.

A very familiar ring, she realized stepping closer, lips parted into a silent question.

Missy raised the ring with a mocking lilt to her lips, staring at it lazily. “This is your Half-Breed Missus’ ring, is it not?”

“River was not a Half Breed,” she protested instantly, incapable of looking away from the ring — the _ring_. _Her_ ring. Her marriage ring. “And it’s mine.” Missy let out a small, unmasked scoff. “For my marriage with River, though, yes.”

Long fingers closed around the golden band, cutting her line of sight. Missy’s tone as she replied was taut, cold. “I thought so.”

_River_? She frowned, lightly. “Is… River the problem? My marriage to River? It’s… over, though.”

Missy’s laughter was just as cold as her tone; the Doctor forced herself to look at her, look at those _eyes_ , and found familiar _hurtangerbetrayalfury_ burning in them. “Not to the Missus, terribly. Though she _is_ your longer marriage to the date, is she not?”

The Doctor floundered, trying to reach for something, some _sense_ , and finding nothing — her arms falling useless to her sides as Missy flinched back with an open sneer when she tried to reach for her. “I was married to her for my past two faces. Half my lifetime.”

Missy took it as answer enough, nodding sharply. “Figured. Heard she was projected to kill you. You always did enjoy _fixing_ people.”

“I never needed to _fix_ River.” She murmured, voice falling silent at the end, hearts throbbing desperately. “She… She was never _broken_. Though not for lack of _trying_.”

And all her _fault_ , too.

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and shakily; she had not lied, though. River… River could be a psychopath, could be the _perfect weapon_ to kill her, but she had never been _broken_.

She had been just _perfect_ , just as she was. As she had been.

If one had any doubt of that, they just had to look at how she died, in the first place.

“But… did you meet her? River? I thought… if you had, you would have _liked_ each other.” She commented, forcing her eyes back open.

Missy’s eye roll was probably felt in the moon. Earth’s moon. On the other side of the universe.

She _did_ a kind of ‘so-so’ sound, though. “We brushed paths, once.”

She gaped. “Where?”

Missy waved a hand away, “Stormcage. Don’t matter. She’s not _bad_. Not my first choice for marriage, of course, but not _bad_. Had some great stories to tell, and wasn’t even annoyed when I pointed out I was your first crush.”

She was blushing, wasn’t she? She likely was. She felt like she was, at least. Hard to say. Her whole face was on flames, though. She groaned, utterly mortified.

“Then, what’s the _problem?_ ” She let herself fall on the ground before Missy’s chair. She was on the level of antsy where she either walked around in circles or she sat down and did absolutely _nothing_. And Missy hated when she walked around in circles.

“The _problem_ ,” Missy mocked, taking on the very same lilt to her voice that the Doctor had used in her question. “Is how your assumptions went _straight_ into ‘I married someone and now she’s angry’ — besides, of course, how _many_ people you were fine with having married. Because _you did not care_ , Doctor.”

She blinked, processing the words in her mind for a while — however she turned it, though, she could only think one outcome. “Master…” Because Koschei wasn’t the only one who knew how to play dirty, and the Doctor had never claimed so. “Are you _jealous_?”

She had the feeling Missy had been trying for a haughty sniff. Instead, it sounded quite a bit wetter than she must be aiming for, and she made up for it with quite the mightiest glare. “Of course not!”

The Doctor shook her head, feeling something like bewilderment burning inside. Her hearts seemed to be confused whether they should beat harder or stop entirely, and she found herself gaping for words for way too long. Long enough to make Missy get up, glare turned twice as potent for it.

At last, her words came back to her, just in time to stop Missy from leaving. “It’s just…” Okay, well, _half_ her words. Now she just had to work on it. She swallowed, then did it again for good measure, and tried again. “We’re Time Lords. We’re nearly immortal beings. We… I thought we agreed that we don’t do relationships like…” she’d probably regret it, but, “like _humans_.”

_Offencehurtangerdenial_ struck her with the intensity of a raging storm.

“We _do._ ” Missy grunted out, teeth clearly clenched shut.

“We’re… non-exclusive, right?” She asked, just to be sure. “Our relationship is open? I… I guess, the problem is River, uh, well, yes, I love her. I’ll likely love her for centuries to come, yet. I loved her for half my life, Kosch. It’s not easy to just… turn it off.” She shrugged uneasy. “If I find her again for some _miracle_ , I’d likely make the most of it. Just as I never regret spending a single moment with you. But… I’m not incapable of loving _more_ than just one person. I thought you… knew that.” She paused. “I’ve never hidden who I _am_ ,” her voice was a quiet plea.

Koschei’s thoughts were so turbulent the Doctor couldn’t even pick a single emotion from them, but she knew enough to know Koschei was likely angry and hurt, still.

“We do. Have a non-exclusive — an ‘open’ relationship, as you said.” Koschei answered with her voice clipped. “And I know you will always love River Song, just as you love me. I suppose we are even similar, in that; pet projects of yours, bad girls you just can’t refuse to love.”

She was sure there was some mockery behind Koschei’s words, but she was too busy trying to understand _what_ was the problem, then, to really follow _that_ up.

(It wasn’t entirely incorrect, either)

“Then…” she floundered again, waving her hands in the air for lack of a method to express herself. “If you know I love you, if you agree I can always love _more and more_ , and never stop loving you… then… then I don’t _understand_ …”

Koschei glared at her so hard the Doctor feared she would combust where she sat. Perhaps Koschei had finally learned to get her laser properties and put it into her eyes. She wouldn’t be surprised.

Then, when she thought she was as good as dead, Koschei ground out. “The _problem_ , Theta,” _nickname, our name, good thing or terrible, terrible thing?_ “Is that you keep on getting _married_ ,” the Doctor opened her mouth (to protest, to point out that Koschei had been married, too, at least _twice_ , the Doctor knew!), but Koschei cut her short before she even started. “But never to _me_.”

As the door fell shut with the loudest bang the Doctor had ever heard a door make, she stared at the empty air, mind whirring to a halt.

Slowly, she replayed the words in her mind, but they did not change.

“But…” she murmured, slow and to herself. “Weren’t you… my first spouse…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (btw, I'm posting this chapter through my phone from a "saved chapter", so if something is weird about the notices sent out or the supposed date of posting... sorry?)


	20. all this time i have been lying (lying in secret to myself)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Missy yet again. Again, the fam goes on an adventure (that is not written out, because I don’t do well with adventure, I’ve discovered). But, we also have the Doctor thinking about her wrongs, this time, so, there’s that?  
> (Also, a hat. Because the Doctor is always the Doctor, no matter what face they wear — and I’m just surprised this kind of hat hasn’t popped up yet?)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. Again, song is “Runaway” by Aurora.**  
>  _(but is the Doctor really lying in secret to herself? I think she has taken her lies to a whole new level by now…)_

**Chapter 20**

She tossed the doors to the TARDIS open, stepping out directly in the middle of Graham’s living room.

She let out a proud yippee of celebration when she saw the table, the chair _and_ the couch in perfect conditions. _And_ the television.

She heard footsteps long before she could hear any voices, and was not surprised when Ryan poked his head in, wide eyed and gaping.

“Doctor!” He hissed, looking around quickly. “I thought we had agreed not to park your TARDIS inside the house? Not a good idea?”

She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “Well, yes, but…”

“And, what, what’s that in your head, mate?” He frowned, staring at her instead of the rest of the room. She beamed at him, raising a hand to touch one of the dangling bells by her face. “Is that a _jester hat_?”

She nodded happily, listening to the jingle of her bells with a quiet laugh. “Yup! Pretty amazing, don’t you think? So… _giggly_ and stuff!”

He just kept staring at her silently, frown and gape still in place. Behind him, the Doctor heard a second set of footsteps, along with a worried, “Son? Ever’thing alright?”

She grinned even more broadly, waving over Ryan’s shoulder as Graham peeked into the room. “Graham! Hello! Are the two weeks over yet?”

She _thought_ they were. But then, she had also thought 12 years to be 5 minutes and 12 months to be 12 hours, so there was _that_.

“Uh…” Graham’s eyes, as well, seemed to be stuck to her head and hat, and she shook her head helpfully, loving the jingles — really, why hadn’t she thought of it before? Also, the way her friends kept gaping at her was just _priceless_. “Uh, well, yeah, kind of, but, Doc…”

She bounced closer, each step a jingle. “Oh? Not too far off, then? Nice! So, it’s alright for you to get back inside, if you want. My period seems to be over! Just pop in, I’ll go grab Yaz, and we’re ready to go!”

“No, Doc-”

“Or you can wait here packing, I’ll go grab Yaz, and we all pop in together!”

“Mate…”

“Oooooooh, or, or, I can get us all matching jester hats! And _then_ we can go travel again!” She quite liked this idea, too, she should do it, even if they didn’t agree to it. Jester TARDIS Fam! … nah, didn’t sound too good.

“Doctor!” Ryan and Graham snapped together.

She stopped, hand raised in middle air to jiggle her bells, and looked at them wide eyed and startled quiet.

“Doc… we can’t go.” Graham said, carefully.

Slowly, she let her hand fall to her side, pressing her lips together as her hearts picked up the pace. “Oh… oh.” It had… been quicker than usual, she supposed. Not as quick as _Martha_ , or… _Donna_ (oh, did it still _hurt_ ), of course. Or _Bill_ (oh Bill), but, special circumstances and everything. Ryan and Graham… and Yaz… had been… nice. Fun. Her fam. And now… “I guess… it was bound to happen at some point…”

She looked back at her TARDIS, sitting proud and silent in the middle of the living room. She had managed to avoid any furniture this time. It had been her neatest landing _ever_.

“Uh, I’ll just…” she waved a hand vaguely towards Sexy, retreating a step at a time, very slowly. As if they were animals to be spooked, huh; old habits die hard. “Get in and… take her… elsewhere. Go…” Was Yaz even okay with travelling yet? “Get off your hair.”

A warm (too warm, too warm, why so warm when they weren’t…) hand closed around her wrist, and she stared unblinkingly at the dark skin against her coat. Familiar hands. Familiar skin colour. Familiar mind sleeping beneath.

She let out a shaky breath, and offered them a smile. Her bells jingled awfully in the quiet of the moment. _Stupid Doctor, ridiculous Doctor, oh, oh, such an idiot, why did she…_

“Doctor, mate,” Ryan interrupted her thoughts, sounding too loud in the moment that seemed to require the gentleness of whispered sounds. “We’re not saying _goodbye_. Just. There’s something odd happening. Here. In Sheffield.”

She raised her head, staring at him with… with _hope_ burning within, her hearts thrumming excitedly in her chest.

“Alien-odd?” She asked, carefully drawing out a smile on her lips.

“We think so, yes,” Ryan nodded, pride written in every line of his face. “We were thinking of calling you, but realized we never got a contact phone,” she was too happy to even care for his glare. They _weren’t going away_! Not yet! “So, we thought, well, you said ‘two weeks’, so we figured you’d be back soon, right?”

She tossed her arms around him, excited, hearts dancing a little tango in her chest and bells jingling non-stop with her shaking Ryan so much in her overwhelming _gratefulness_.

“Oh, Ryan, brilliant Ryan, a hundred points to you! And forty to you too, Graham!” She exclaimed, laughing breathlessly. “Ohhh, c’mon, c’mon! We have a _mystery_ to solve!”

She bounced away, a dance to her steps as her bells jingled. _Brilliant, nice, likeable Doctor!_

… Though still pretty stupid, she had to admit.

**.**

Hiding from suspiciously good-hearers shadowy things while wearing a jester hat was terribly hard, the Doctor discovered. She still made an effort (and mostly _managed_ , thanks very much), holding the bells in her free hand as she ran.

Still, it was to no one’s surprise when they ended up caught because of her. Lucky her, Yaz managed to get away just in time, and the Doctor did a Thing (a very smart, very sneaky Thing) and slipped her sonic in Yaz’s pocket as she did, so instead of being all four of them locked in a cell, it was just the three of them. The Doctor, Ryan and Graham. In handcuffs. In a damp, dark cell.

“Why are they always so _dark_?” She complained, kicking lazily at the air. At least they had given them enough chain for her to either get up or sit down if she wanted, which was more than she could say for… many of the previous times she had been locked away in a cell.

“And damp, mate, let’s not forget damp.” Ryan pointed out from where he was sitting, voice muffled from where his face was pressed against his knees. “Ugh, what did you say they gave us?”

“Neuro-blockers. Unfortunately, that means a migraine equal to… three weeks on a bender.” Not much dissimilar to going out with Jack, actually, huh. “Even more unfortunately, for you, that also means a lot of nausea. Sorry.”

Ryan moved his head enough to glare at her, though the effect wasn’t quite as good when one’s grimacing for their life, in the Doctor’s opinion. “Yeah, no shit.” He groaned, hiding his face again. “You mean you don’t feel like throwing up three times?”

She went to wave a hand and only remembered she was still chained when the chains clinked ominously. At least they weren’t _shocking_ chains. _That_ ’d be terrible.

“Nah,” she shrugged instead. Not that Ryan was seeing anything. Or Graham. Because they were both _hiding their faces_. As if that helped much for a migraine, honestly! There wasn’t even any light in the room! “Me, I got a neuro… receiver, let’s say, for it to work on. You lot don’t, so it attacks your stomach instead. Terrible kind of drug, _awful_ side-effects, but not terribly threatening, either. Not even to me!” She grinned — then decided best not, because that _did_ make her head hurt like hell, ouch, and settled for swishing her bells a little bit. “And, anyway! Not all cells are _damp_ , Ryan.”

He snorted. “Know many of those, Doctor?”

“Oh yeah!” She couldn’t wave, couldn’t gesture… well, she could bounce. But, the _movements_. Ugh. And the jingling bells _were_ hurting her head, double ugh. To the ground it was, she supposed, though sitting down with one’s wrists handcuffed together was _hard_. “I think I could write a book on the different kinds of prisons all over the galaxy. Once I was tossed into one with _Robin Hood_!”

“Oh, now you’re pulling one, mate.”

She laughed — and flinched from the sound resonating in her head. By her side, Ryan swore loudly, and then swore again, lower. Graham was still trying to keep quiet, it seemed, just groaning and huffing as they did a _lot_ of sounds that must not be good for his head.

“No, I’m not!” She answered, cheerful. “Would say so, too. Didn’t think Robin Hood _existed_. Thought it was a, a robot or something, when I first saw him.” She shrugged again. “What do you know? Turns out he’s real. A real life hero. Hah!” She went to shake her head and remembered the motion would make her sick and jingle the bells just in time, sighing instead. “But, anyway, the point _is_ : the cell we shared was very dry. Very, very dry.”

Finally, the chains on the other side of her moved; she looked over to see Graham raising his head, a tired grimace on his face, but a determined set to his jaw.

“So, Doc, not to burst your bubble or anything, but, didn’t the… shadow things… say they were gonna execute us in the morning? Or, well, you said they said, I guess. I couldn’t understand a thing.”

She nodded slowly, grinning. “Yep! Or, well, midnight? Or next afternoon. I am pretty sure they said we had at least 5 hours. It’s hard to say. I’m not too fluent in the Har’axean languages anymore; should brush up on it, after this. Also, yeah, that’s the neuro-blockers. It’s blocking the TARDIS matrix of translation, sorry.”

Graham shook his head — and then grimaced, clearly realizing it was a _terrible_ idea all on his own. “Then… why ain’t we escaping, if we have so little time left? Y’know, why aren’t you… sonicing us out or something?” He gestured as good as possible, which, you know, better than she could, since _his_ wrists were tied to his front while hers were to her back. (Apparently they _had_ heard of the Doctor, she had discovered when trying to scare them off Earth)

“Oh, you know…” She shrugged magnanimously. “It’s with Yaz.”

“Yaz.” Ryan repeated, voice flat. “Your sonic.”

“Yep! Gave it to her when we were being carried away!” And she was _very proud_ of it, too, because this way Yaz could free the other hostages who were in much more danger than them. Or had been until the Doctor announced herself. Hard to tell, now.

“So, what, we just waiting ‘til Yaz comes find us?” Graham asked, voice strained in a way that bled pain and tiredness and nothing too good and she really, really needed to get them out. Maybe she should have asked Yaz to look for them, first?

“Well…” She answered, feeling guilty for the pained faces on her friends. “That or getting us a lock picking kit, but I don’t have any on me, do you?”

They stared at her for a long, _long_ moment, and she swore they would start laughing, because there was this… this _face_ on them, all weird and twisty and kind of _broken_ , and she wasn’t sure what to expect, but laugh seemed to fit…

But, no, instead, they sighed. Very loudly.

“Doctor, mate,” Ryan started, slowly. “You’re wearing bob pins under your hat.”

Oh. “Oh!” She repeated out loud. She _was_!

She grinned, hearts thrumming excited in her chest as she looked at them, leaning forward as best as she could. “So… who fancies trying to get them off for me?”

**.**

She got them off, Yaz saved the hostages, and the Doctor even managed to scare the aliens away.

And all of it while wearing her hat, despite what Ryan, Yaz and Graham might say.

“So, Doc,” Graham started as they watched the spaceship leave Earth’s air space, just a blip on their history now that everything was back as it were. “Why _are_ you wearing this…” vague gesture towards her head.

“Hat?” She offered, smirking lightly at his direction.

Amusingly, he flushed.

“I’m surprised you guys even waited this long to ask it, to be honest.” She admitted with a laugh. “Thought it’d be the first thing you’d ask. Well, after ‘what is _this_?’”

“Uh, well, we _were_ kinda occupied, mate, if you didn’t notice…” Ryan pointed out, waving at the empty warehouse behind them.

“Yeah, sure. Still, we had a whole morning together just _searching_ for the aliens, and you never said a _thing_. Then, we were in the cells, and you _still_ somehow managed to not ask about it.” She nodded to the side. “Like I said, surprised. Maybe a bit disappointed; thought at least _you_ , Yaz,” the woman startled, looking at her with wide eyes, and she grinned back. “Would be more curious. You’re just so curious. It’s what I love so much about you, after all!”

She huffed, shaking her head (bells jingling. Bells jingling, bells jingling, bells jingling — she was kind of tired of the bells jingling, but it looked _nice_ , and she had _promised_ , and). She turned back to where she had parked her TARDIS, so long ago, watching as it vibrated quietly in the distance.

“C’mon, we can get out of here, now.” She called, walking to Sexy. “The Daeshen are gone.”

Footsteps fell into step behind her, closer, closer. She walked on, staring at Sexy with a frown — there was… no song. No song, just… the light, the quiet vibration of the engines through the doors.

 _Oh_ , she blinked. She was still drugged, wasn’t she? She had forgotten that it lingered on for a while yet. Strange of her, to forget that.

“Doctor, did you _want_ us to ask?” Yaz asked as the Doctor pushed the doors of the TARDIS open.

Sexy let out a loud, whizzing sound as the Doctor stepped in; clearly, her old girl didn’t like that her thief had been drugged _again_. She didn’t like it, either, so Sexy could stop complaining; it’s not like it would cure her quicker!

Waving a hand over her shoulder, she answered Yaz, “Nah, not particularly. Just not used to not having people questioning my hats, I guess.”

Amy, Rory, River, Clara… they had all _hated_ her hats. Bill… had lucked out, Clara would say, because her past face wasn’t much for hats. The _glasses_ on the other hand…

“Oh.” Yaz mumbled. “Well then; why _are_ you wearing this? You never did answer.”

She grinned again, waiting until all were inside for her to snap the doors shut. “I didn’t, did I?”

Ryan huffed, walking straight to the console. “Mate, you either tell us or you stop dragging it on. It’s becoming annoying!”

She followed him with a laugh, flicking switches and pulling levers so they’d leave this place before someone found them (she still wasn’t sure whether UNIT was back in action or not, and she’d prefer not to deal with any other authority, if possible).

“Okay, okay!” She agreed, tipping her head. “It’s — well, it’s so I won’t act stupid.”

“What?” Ryan and Yaz asked in tandem.

“Doc, don’t know if you know that, but wearing a hat doesn’t stop you from being stupid?”

“Oh, ta very much, Graham,” she rolled her eyes. She agreed with him, but really, was that something you tell your friend? “And it’s to _remind myself_ to not be stupid again. Guess I _might_ have failed it. _But_ , I did save Earth again, so I deserve a break, I’d say.”

A hand on her shoulder turned her around, Yaz staring at her with a look of utter confusion on her face. “You wore a silly hat to remind yourself not to act stupid.” She shook her head slowly. “Does this have anything to do with your friend? ‘Missy’?”

“Ten points to Yaz, good Yaz.” She patted her friend on the hand. “I’m an _idiot_ , you know, so sometimes I have to dress like one to stop _acting_ like one.”

Proud at her explanation (and at the confused glances of her friends, to be honest), she turned back to the TARDIS’s console. “So. Where do you wanna go?”

Behind her, something a lot like “Did you understand _shit_?” sounded, but she ignored it with another small grin. She did, after all.

(Unrelatedly — or so she’d say —, she kept her jester hat on her head for the next day. She still had much to think about, and she couldn’t go relapsing just yet, after all.)


	21. astronomy in reverse (it was me who was discovered)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starters: this chapter is rated T+, I’d believe. With that out the way…  
> This chapter has no angst that I know of (I mean, there’s this smidgest moment, I guess, but not really?), but it’s a prelude to some problems, so… but, hey, the Doctor and Missy at last sit down and talk! (or, well, sit down. They talk on the next chapter)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. Song is “Venus” by Sleeping At Last.**   
>  _(are you quite tired of SaL yet? ‘cuz I’m not)_

**Chapter 21**

For once, the Doctor was having a lazy day instead of running around with her friends. They’d had a quick trip earlier, but she had surprised even herself when nothing untoward happened to them during the trip; they just… walked around, seeing things and experiencing a different culture. No bombs, no guns, no threats, no tyrant leaders, no invasions, no _nothing_. It was… quiet.

She didn’t quite know what to do with _quiet_.

The others had gone inside — food, sleep, gaming, reading… they’d said their reasons, but she hadn’t paid much attention to them. They usually did things like that after their trips, so she was used to it, by now. Problem was, usually she’d just… read something or tinker with her TARDIS while waiting for them to wake up and be ready for another adventure (or maybe sit with a tea by the doors waiting for someone to talk to), but today she didn’t feel like it, because she still felt too _restless_. She had too much energy running through her still, and she wanted to… do _something_.

Maybe…

“You think I could see something else, old girl?” She wondered, patting the gently humming console of the TARDIS. “Go to a pub, perhaps. Lock the doors so we don’t lose our friends, but just…”

Sexy sang to her cheerily, one of the flicks on her console turning on their own, and she grinned in response. “Yeah, knew you’d agree with me.”

She put the engines on silent, not wanting to draw too much attention from her friends, and tried to rematerialize as smoothly as possible. The ground still shook under her, of course it did, but at least it was something small she could easily pass off as being an experiment gone off.

With a last glance downwards — she should likely find herself a second coat at some point, something more practical to enclosed spaces — to check whether she had everything with her (sonic and psychic paper in her pockets; every limb accounted for; boots on her feet. She thought she was fine), she stepped out, using one of the TARDIS’s wayward keys to lock the door behind her.

Now, just hope for the best.

The planet was a bit colder than she had expected and there was a hint of a storm she could taste in the air, but at least she _had_ managed to park in front of the pub. And the pub was, she discovered as soon as she pushed its doors open, almost _unbearably_ warm.

She grimaced lightly, walking through the throng of tables around the place. There was a song she didn’t know echoing in the background and dim lights spread over the room, leading the way to the bar on the other side of the pub, where a tentacled alien served drinks, handling too many bottles at the same time. Just staring at zir made the Doctor dizzy; the idea of holding so many breakable things… well, she imagined no one in their right minds would give her so many glass things when she still had this small habit of breaking her own _ship_ every other week.

Luckily, she seemed to have managed to hit a time where the pub wasn’t _too_ crowded, and though the bartender seemed to be busy, she still found a stool to sit on the corner of the bar, positioned to be able to both call the bartender easily and keep an eye out on the door in case danger _did_ come knocking.

She wasn’t even sure why she had chosen a pub, to be truthful, but she had felt like it, and she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to eat some food, now she was here. Though the drinking bit _was_ more uncertain.

She still ordered some fancy whatever (cocktail she thought?) when it was her turn to put in an order, together with a plateful of “whatever suited it most”. She wasn’t sure if she’d drink it or not, since she didn’t usually _enjoy_ alcohol; but then, she usually didn’t enjoy pubs, either, unless she was with her friends, yet here she was. Who knew, then, what she wanted to do today?

Two hours later, she felt pleasantly buzzed. She had drunk a glass of something that tasted sweet and strong on her tongue, and the whole atmosphere _felt_ drunk, so she wasn’t exactly _surprised_ about being buzzed; what she _was_ surprised about was that she was feeling good. She didn’t usually _like_ being buzzed or high or anything not entirely in control of her faculties.

It could have something to do with the tales she was listening to, though. Everything sounded terribly like lies, but it was _fun_ , and it was so different from what she usually talked to with her friends. It reminded her of… of going on benders with Jack or — or _River_. Drinking, laughing and tossing stories out, making a joke out of the whole universe.

It was terrible fun, and she was so distracted in it, she had forgotten to keep an eye on the doors, and didn’t even feel the presence by her side until a touch on her thigh cleared her mind with sharp clarity.

“Well, dear; never expected to find you in a place like _this_ ,” Missy’s voice sounded thick and heavy in her ear, her warm breath sending chills through the Doctor’s skin.

She leaned back into Missy’s touch and voice. “Why is it?”

She felt more than heard Missy snorting. “Sitting down and being _quiet_?” Missy tutted lightly. “Doesn’t sound much like you.”

She turned her head to look at Missy; her face was so, _so_ close, it would be easy to cut those last centimetres between them and kiss her…

She refrained (with much difficulty), smiling instead. “Oh, I can sit quiet well enough,” projecting easily through their contact, : _You’ve seen to it in the past, don’t you remember?:_

_:Oh,:_ Missy’s thoughts, somehow, sounded even thicker than her voice. _:I remember it perfectly, dear.:_

A flash of desire surged through her, born from either of them, and she felt her smile turning just a bit darker, corners pulling into a smirk she had always restrained herself from showing others.

“I believe you have had enough to drink.” Missy stated out loud, as if she were continuing some conversation, and not starting something completely different. “Come. I’ll get you home.”

Slipping _out_ of the pub was much quicker than slipping in. She wasn’t even sure whether she or Missy — or even if _either_ of them — had paid her tab (though she had shown the bartender her sculpture from The Louvre earlier; maybe it would serve as payment, if nothing else? Because she certainly didn’t remember taking it _back_ , either… guess that took care of the “lost” thing the statue was supposed to go through), much busier keeping all her attention on Missy’s hands and legs and back and curls and.

She let herself be pulled across the small street separating pub from her TARDIS, barely noticing the falling rain. Her hand in Missy’s seemed so much _warmer_ than the rest of her whole body, her legs seemed weak as those of a foal, and the doors to the TARDIS were never so _hard_ to get open, key fumbling in her fingers as Missy pressed her to the blue, humming wood of the TARDIS’s doors.

“C’mon,” she gasped, feeling teeth close tightly around her neck. “If you don’t let up, we’ll never get inside.”

She was the one to make the request and she knew it, but she still whined pathetically when Missy drew back, slow enough to let her feel the smirk on her lips.

“Then get it _open_ ,” Missy murmured in her ear, Gallifreyan never sounding as dirty as it did in Missy’s thick accent and lapse in verbal-time coherence. She added to her quiet order with an even quieter threat that sent all of the Doctor’s nerves singing.

She got it open. In two seconds flat.

**.**

She woke in a too large bed, feeling much colder than when she fell asleep.

She groaned, head pounding a bit in a way that was half the fault of a hangover and half the fault of too many problems bottled up for too long. In response, Sexy whirred loudly, song hitting a level of bitchiness that should not be allowed for something lacking _words_.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” she grumbled back, heaving herself up. “I need a cuppa before I deal with this shit.”

And _shit_ indeed. Last night… morning… thing… had been _amazing_ , she’d give that, but both she and Missy had just wilfully ignored every single one of their troubles for the sake of reuniting as they wished to. And now, Missy was just… adding to them, it seemed, which meant the Doctor not only needed to _think_ about what to do, but she’d need to _go searching_ for Missy to deal with them, as well.

… and go searching for some clothes as well, it seemed.

“Oh, fuck this.” She grabbed the first piece of clothing on the ground, checking it out just quick enough to check if it would cover her or not. It was a shirt, and it went down to her thighs, so it was cover enough, in her opinion, especially since her coat was still hanging by the door, and closed it was enough to cover her legs too.

She padded barefooted through the TARDIS, taking the long way around to the kitchens to give herself some time to think.

Missy had said nothing… or, well, nothing related to their argument, at least. She had said _a lot_ of unrelated things. Many of them orders. But, nothing about the way she had stormed out on the Doctor last time they’d been together, and nothing about their past in Gallifrey, and nothing about the Doctor’s past wives, and the Doctor still wasn’t sure _how the hell_ they managed to get so different ideas about their _marital status_.

Eventually, Sexy must have got tired of sending her in circles, because she found herself facing a dead end corner with only one door on the other side, and she didn’t want to provoke her further by trying to turn back around less Sexy send her on a goose chase for the rest of the day as payback. So, with a sigh, she opened the door, finding, as expected, the kitchens behind it.

She blinked, muttering, surprised. “Coffee?”

She did _not_ expect the smell of _coffee_ lying within her kitchens. Neither Graham nor Ryan took coffee, and Yaz, despite _liking_ coffee, usually just drank whatever Graham or the Doctor made.

She looked around, following her nose, and realized there was _another_ familiar smell under the overwhelming scent of coffee in the place.

Even _more_ surprised, she called, “ _Missy_?”

But, it was true. There, by the coffee machine she didn’t even know her TARDIS had, was Missy, wearing… the Doctor’s rainbow-shirt and her own pants, her curls left hanging around her face, and looking strangely at home with a cup of — apparently — coffee in her hands.

“Hello, dear,” Missy answered, using that same easy Gallifreyan she had been using the whole night; thick and sweet and utterly _childish_ in its lack of propriety. “You certainly took your time. When did you last sleep?”

“A week ago.” She answered on auto-pilot, even as her mind took its while just _gaping_ at Missy still being there. Koschei wasn’t the type to… _stick around_ after an argument. Hell, the Master had never been the type to stick around after _sex_ , whether they had been in a good mood or not. She… didn’t know what to do with this.

“That explains it,” Missy nodded, drinking her coffee. “Want a cup?”

She grimaced, crossing her arms. “Yeah, no, thanks.”

That came out worse than she’d wanted it to, fuck. She grimaced again, rubbing at her face with one hand. “Sorry.”

She heard steps, and raised her face again to see Missy there, right before her, eyes intent on her face. She swallowed hard, looking away. A couple heartsbeats later, she heard Missy walk away, a muttered “okay” following her.

The Doctor took the moment to busy herself with preparing a cup of tea. Strong in flavour this time, but perhaps no caffeine? She didn’t feel like she needed anything to worsen her nerves, after all.

She dedicated all her focus to the teakettle, pouring the exact amount of water and sugar in it, waiting with a nervous tapping on the counter by her side.

“You know, looking at you, one would think you’re about to face a Dalek.” Missy paused. “Or the Time Lords.”

“Been there, done that,” she muttered in reply. “Think I’d prefer them, right now.” _And they’re actively trying to kill me,_ she added mentally to herself. Honestly, she’d take any kind of invasion, right now; at least _that_ was familiar, something she knew how to _deal with_. This… this was new, something she didn’t know. And, as she’d discovered long ago, she _didn’t_ _like_ not knowing things.

“Oh, _thanks_ ,” Missy drawled, almost audibly rolling her eyes. Despite her nerves and how her hearts were trying to crawl up her throat, the Doctor managed a smile at that.

The doors opened behind them, and she looked over her shoulders with wide eyes. There, sleep eyed and hazy, stood Yaz, yawning heavily, much, _much_ earlier than she usually woke up. “Morning, Doctor.” She grumbled, stepping inside without a second look around. “You made coffee. Nice.”

The Doctor kept staring at her as Yaz grabbed a cup, filled it with coffee, and managed to drink it in a single go. Only as she filled her second cup and the teakettle behind the Doctor screamed did Yaz actually look up, much to the Doctor’s amusement.

Yaz blinked slowly, glancing from the Doctor to Missy and back again, eyes falling to their clothes and widening comically. “Oh. Oh, hello.” The Doctor could see her throat working fast, and her voice sounded ridiculously high on her next words. “Nice seeing you. I’ll… be leaving. Let you alone. Uh. Yeah. Nice talking. Happy to see you seem to have worked things out, Doctor. Good for you.”

She scurried out of the kitchen as quickly as she came in, and the Doctor looked back at Missy, smiling nervously at the look on her face.

“‘Worked things out’?” She asked lazily, but her eyes were hard on the Doctor’s face, thoughts carefully drawn back from her senses. “What have you been telling your pets, dear?”

“Not my _pets_ ,” she answered automatically. “And nothing that’s not true.”

But, no, she wanted to _‘work things out’_ between them, didn’t she? So she sighed heavily, turning back to fix herself a cup of tea, but keeping an ear out to Missy.

“Sorry, not what I meant,” she mumbled, sweetening her drink with ease. “I just.” She breathed deeply, letting it out slowly. “To answer your question, before we argued, she asked me if you were ‘the one’. I said yes. Then we parted in… less than amicable terms, and, well, I guess she thought we had separated.” _Did we?_ , she thought without projecting for fear of the answer.

Missy did not catch her hidden thoughts, it seemed, for she completely ignored the last part of the Doctor’s sentence. “The one?”

She nodded, raising her tea to take a sip. It was still hot, but it didn’t matter all that much right now, she just needed something to hold and an excuse to keep quiet and _think_. “The one I talked about with Ryan when we were drunk.”

Missy hummed questioningly, and the Doctor tried to think of how to say it. Clearly, Missy didn’t think they were _married_ , so she couldn’t just say “my wife”, because apparently that would be seen as a lie. What would…

_Ah_. She started humming, mentally, projecting her heartsbeats — the four timed drumming sound, except it had nothing to do with the Master’s war drums, no. It was the drumming sound of their hearts, the drumming that went along with the words that spilled smoothly from her lips, a Gallifreyan much more formal than the one they’d been using.

She knew Missy recognized the song from the catch in her breath, but then, she’d known Missy would recognize the song from the moment she made this choice.

Missy’s voice was breathy and weak as she answered, completing the melody they shared in their souls and minds.

The translation she had made for her friends popped back up in her mind, swirling lazily and confusingly in its lack of proper _time_.

_I give myself forever / even when time ceases to be / I am yours / for as long as you give me space_

She stared at Koschei, close, close, so close, their lips brushing with every word spoken, every promise meant between them, and she swallowed Koschei’s breath, Koschei’s smell, Koschei’s presence, even as their minds melded with ease, their song reaching a whole new level that could only be achieved when two Time Lords meant it for one another.

_Take me / and I show you my soul_

They kissed then, lingering and sweet but with the bitter undercurrent of apologies, and the Doctor knew they had to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: next chapter we'll have The Talk (about their marriage-not-marriage).


	22. whenever you're in trouble, won't you stand by me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanons abound~  
> Those two are ridiculously ridiculous. Yes, that’s redundant, but it’s seriously what I was thinking about them the whole time I was writing this, so; there you go. It’s awfully hard to write Koschei because half the time I have the impression they should be fighting, and the other half I have the impression they should be making out, and it’s terribly hard to put some conversations between it even though I _know_ they need to talk. Ugh.  
> So, anyway, they sat down! They talked! With _some_ luck, they won’t fight again in this story! (Nah. They will. We still have enough time for that. As in, chapter 26 is ridiculously angsty? Yay! Cheers, Doctor and Missy; you are officially the hardest couple I’ve ever tried writing!)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. Song is “Stand By Me” — by, honestly, too many singers. I was listening to the version sung by Mona, this time around (because ever since I discovered it with Hannibal, that’s my favourite version). But I think it’s, technically, Ben E. King’s?**   
>  _(I think the Doctor has been singing this song to the Master the whole time since they started hunting each other through time and space, actually… hm…)_

**Chapter 22**

For a talk like this, there was only thing that suited them. Unfortunately, _their_ place was no longer reachable — too many things stood in their way; too many years passed, too many problems, too many obstacles and death threats —, but the Doctor made do. They could just float around the universe and star gaze through the doors of the TARDIS, of course. They could even sit on top of the TARDIS, as she’d liked doing last time.

Instead, she took them to a room she barely used anymore, hand in hand with Koschei as they walked through the humming hallways of her TARDIS.

“You have added an oxygen factory to the TARDIS.”

The Doctor spun around — being careful not to jostle Koschei too much, because she didn’t want to release her hand — and grinned at her. “I have added a _forest_ to the TARDIS.”

Koschei snorted, drifting to one of the nearest trees and dragging the Doctor along; not that she complained, following her with a small smile. “They seem like treeborgs to me.” Koschei pointed out, raising an eyebrow at her. “Oxygen factory.”

She shrugged, tapping against the tree bark with the back of a hand. “Sure, it’s treeborgs — did you meet me? I’d kill any plant —, but ask any human. This is a _forest_.” She bit her lower lip, hiding her smile from Koschei’s sight. “And we both know the TARDIS can supply her own oxygen without any use for this.”

Koschei just smirked at her, her own free hand still resting against the tree. Around them, the sound was similar to a real forest, with rustling leaves and creaking wood every so often, all raised up by Sexy, the Doctor knew, to remind her of natural forests. She hadn’t been lying when she said this was a _forest_ ; she never intended this room to be an oxygen factory, she just wanted a place to rest and remember simpler times.

Unfortunately, she didn’t manage to get herself a forest of silver trees and red grass. _That_ would have been something impressive.

“Anyway, I did not bring you here to discuss my trees, Kosch.” She nudged her friend on the side, pulling her along with a gentle hand. “We came here to talk, right? C’mon.”

She led them to a small clearing and sat down in the middle of it, soft grass ceding easily under her weight. Pulling Koschei with her was easy, though it did earn her a small glare for how Koschei fell over her, the two of them tumbling to the ground in a mess, the Doctor laughing loudly at the elbow she got to her ribs for her trouble.

With some shuffling and some more elbows, she managed to roll them to their backs, side by side. “Here,” she murmured, taking Koschei’s hand in hers yet again. She raised her free hand to point up above them. “Thought you might enjoy it for our talk.”

Slowly, Koschei followed her pointing, and she glanced up, too. Above them, the universe glittered in a swirl; so many stars, asteroids, comets, planets and nebulas gleaming in different colours and shapes, creating a picture that was both familiar and comforting for the Doctor. A picture of home.

“The constellation of Kasterborous.” Koschei murmured, voice thick with emotion. Her mind whirled just under the surface of the Doctor’s touch, and she could feel _nostalgiapainangerlonging_ in it, bleeding through without any projection or attempt to peek in. “You brought us…”

_Home_ , remained unspoken. It wasn’t home for Koschei, after all. And it wasn’t home for the Doctor. They both were renegades. They both were _criminals_ by the laws of the Time Lords. Gallifrey would always be their homeplanet, but it would never again be _home_ , and they both knew it.

Still, the sight of that sky… the feeling of that forest they grew up in… _That_ would always be home either way, in the Doctor’s mind.

“It’s more that I asked Sexy to always keep an eye out for Kasterborous in this room, but, yes.” She nodded, squeezing Koschei’s hand in hers.

She’d never bring them wilfully to danger, not to this level of danger, but she like being able to keep an eye on the place she had grown, the place where she had fallen in love the very first time, the place where she had had a _family_.

Just as Koschei was unwittingly projecting her thoughts, the Doctor must be, too, because Koschei’s next words were spoken with much more care, much more _understanding_ than she’d thought possible from Koschei. “I see.”

They took a moment to just watch the stars move, the suns (seven in total, the Doctor knew; two of them right around the place where Gallifrey should be), the occasional asteroid. It was… peaceful. It was beautiful. It was…

“Every star in the universe.” She murmured, falling back into memories that were always there, just beneath the surface. “We were going to see them all.”

“We were.” Koschei agreed. “Until you ran away from me.”

She shook her head automatically. “Not you. Never you. Or, not then, at least.” Her voice broke a bit, truths she didn’t want to spill burning just behind her tongue. “Back then… back then, you were _everything_. We made a promise, Koschei. You, me and the stars.”

Koschei laughed, dry and unamused. “Yeah. Well, we both know you don’t keep your promises, Theta.”

“It’s not on purpose.” She blinked tears away, afraid to look at Koschei, though she could feel Koschei’s eyes on her face. “I had every intention of coming back for you. But… I was afraid. I was afraid and, well, you know me; I’ve always been a coward.”

“What, you thought I wouldn’t stand by you when you discovered about the Hybrid?”

She shook her head again, swallowing heavily. “No. No, if it were just that…” She sighed. “But things kept piling up. I ran because I had the opportunity, I ran because it wasn’t the right time, I ran because I heard so many things I didn’t want to hear…” She pressed her eyes closed. “But then, I came back. For you. Except…”

Koschei finished easily enough. “I wasn’t there anymore.”

She nodded, still holding her eyes closed. “And I somehow ended up married, and had a family. And when you came back…” She laughed at herself, at the silliness of how _stupid_ she had been, back then. “I didn’t want to talk to you. I didn’t want to try to _apologize_.” She scoffed, letting her eyes fall open, staring directly at the space Gallifrey would always occupy in the universe. “We both know how much good _that_ did.”

“And all the while, the drums just got worse.” Koschei murmured, voice heavy. _The drums_. The Doctor could still hear the Master pleading to her to just _listen_ ; listen to the _never ending drums_ , the drums that were coming for them.

That was another thing she’d never forgive the Time Lords for.

“And we slipped each time further away from each other.” She finished awkwardly. “Until I ran again, dragging my granddaughter with me.”

_Susan…_ She shook her head. It was long gone, now. Susan had been so young back then, but she had been so _stubborn_ , too; just like the rest of the family.

“And I ran away as well. I ran after you and away from the Time Lords and all their _rules_. I ran from death and towards the drums, towards _war_ , towards the destruction of _everything_.”

She remembered telling Bill about how Koschei had always been so busy _burning_ the stars that they had never _seen_ anything. Now, she wondered if that was accurate; was it really because she had been busy burning everything, or was it because she had been all alone?

The Doctor sighed, and finally turned her head, looking back at Koschei. “But through it all…” She smiled a bit. “I never forgot you, Kosch. Never forgot our promises. I… broke them, of course. But I always intended on _keeping_ them. Somehow. In the beginning, my intent _was_ to come back for you and drag _you_ along to see the universe. And later, I _wanted_ to find you, wanted to see you just one more time, just convince you…”

Koschei smirked back, mockingly. “To be good?”

“No.” The Doctor murmured. “To be _mine_.”

Koschei’s laughter wasn’t entirely undeserved. It still hurt to hear it, mocking her.

“Oh, Doctor.” She taunted, eyes dark in a way the Doctor hadn’t seen in quite some time. “You never wanted that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Koschei,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, admitting the one secret that had always been meant only for their ears to catch. “I _always_ wanted that. Ever since we were just children starting out the Academy.”

Grey eyes stared at her unblinkingly, roaming all her face in search of something the Doctor wasn’t sure she found, the space-gold in them burning unforgivingly. Still, Koschei hummed quietly and inclined her head in agreement, so it must not have been _entirely_ a failure.

“Why have you never married me, Theta?” Koschei asked, changing the subject back to their last argument.

At last, the Doctor found herself free to say the words she had thought back then. “Because I thought we were already married, idiot.”

“How is that…!”

She laughed, inclining her head. “Well, I _gathered_ now that you never agreed to that, but…”

It was easy to pick up the memories she wanted, to push them forwards into the link they still maintained through their hands.

_The second sun setting, soft red grass, singing silver leaves, a warmth by his side. Home, home, home._

_He smiled, leaning into the smaller body beside him, pointing out the stars above them. Words spilled through his mouth easily; names, tales, things he wanted to know. All his focus, though, was Koschei and his smile and his scent and his voice resonating charmingly back._

_Theta loved him. Theta loved Koschei. With all his hearts, with all his soul. He **loved** Koschei._

_The song spilled through his lips at some point, unnoticed. He did notice when Koschei answered, though, an addition to his song in a way he had never noticed he was lacking._

_“Do you mean it?” Koschei asked._

_“All the stars of the universe,” he said back, leaning down so they could touch forehead to forehead, their minds whirling together lazily. “We are going to see them all, aren’t we? Together.”_

_And when Koschei nodded, he grinned, feeling inside the beginning of a bond he never wanted to break._

_Theta and Koschei. He liked the sound of that. Theta and Koschei out to see the universe. Theta and Koschei against the universe, if need be._

_Theta and Koschei. Just… Theta and Koschei._

Slowly, Koschei snorted in front of her. “You…” Her thoughts were slightly more vocal, but just as incomprehensible.

“Well, I thought…” She shrugged, waving a hand in the air. “We promised ourselves to each other. It was _our_ song. It was _our_ promise.”

_:Wasn’t that enough?:_ She allowed herself to ask.

Koschei smiled. “You’re an idiot.”

_:It can be,:_ Koschei agreed, easily. _:If you mean it.:_

The Doctor leaned in. Koschei met her in the middle of it, their lips crashing together with fervour and promises, a kiss that was less a kiss and more of an unspoken conversation. They held to each other with desperation, one hand on the Doctor’s hair and the Doctor’s own hand slipping into Koschei’s back, grabbing at the back of her shirt.

Between them, their thoughts spilled back and forth, a mess of desires and fears and thrumming _hope_. The boundaries between the Doctor and Koschei (between the Doctor and the Master, between Theta and Koschei) falling without support when they touched, _reaching_ for each other.

Inside her, the bond the Doctor had felt start so long ago stirred back to life, a small flame given new embers.

_:forever?:_ ~~~~

_:forever:_

And this time, the Doctor felt secure enough not to draw back from the promise. After all, if there was one single being in this whole universe who would be capable of outliving her, she was sure it was the Master.


	23. i'm dancing on to your heartsbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it has happened. At last. At long last, they have they have realized that shit will keep on happening unless they, you know, do something. So. Here you go. It’s not quite the most romantic chapter in this story (that honour lies with chapter 28, where I managed to incorporate several clichés together to create the fluffiest of fluffs), but it’s… up there on the top 5, at least.
> 
> Ohhh, right, the Doctor wears a white suit in this chapter. I have… pictures of it (because I only decided on it because of a photo of Jodie in a white suit and wow).
> 
> [Photo 1](http://live.staticflickr.com/1895/44579750591_9f392bd729_b.jpg) (the photo that inspired me, tbh)  
> [Photo 2](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Df6g7CXWAAMsqA3.jpg) (and a drawing that I really, really loved)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. Song is “Symphony” by Clean Bandit (with the adaptation made by me, of course).**  
>  _(at last, the chapter with the title from the same lyrics as the story itself)_

**Chapter 23**

They talked for hours, and when the TARDIS clock chimed in with the announcement it was late morning, at last, the Doctor decided it had been _too long_ , already. They still had more to talk about, of course, but she never imagined they’d talk even _this_ much; she didn’t really expect for them to work through all their problems in a single sitting.

Instead, she kissed Missy on the cheek, and ran away laughing, knowing she’d be followed.

After managing to grab clothes from the wardrobe, she half-bounced half-ran into the kitchen, and was glad to see all her fam reunited there; she loved when they made it easier for her. “So!” She opened her arms, spinning a bit, hearts still racing with the thrill of the chase. “We’ll have some company for a while! Hope you don’t mind, fam.”

Yaz, clearly much more awake now but still remembering perfectly well what had happened this morning, blushed a dark shade of red, eyes falling noticeably to the Doctor’s legs. In response, the Doctor waggled her eyebrows at her, a grin on her face as she kicked her newly shoed feet and shook her legs.

It seemed to just embarrass the girl further, for Yaz shook her head and looked back to her plate of toast.

“Who’s it, Doc?” Graham asked, sitting his cup back on the table with a small click. “Is it your…” he waved a hand in the air vaguely, “Friend?”

Pressing her lips together, she managed to hold in a small snort. When she felt she wouldn’t start laughing at her friend’s face, she nodded. “Yeah, sure. Friend.”

Of course, that was when the doors behind her opened, Missy poking her head in with a satisfied hum. “I see you’ve found your pets again, dear.” _:And clothes. Shame.:_

The Doctor shook her head, fondness and annoyance mixed together in her hearts. “We have talked about this, Miss.” _:And so did you.:_

A haughty sniff and a click of the tongue were her only responses, though she also felt Missy get inside the room entirely, the door falling shut quietly behind her.

“Ah. The… Master, right?” Ryan confirmed with a strange look on his face. “The childhood friend.”

Missy’s arm wrapped around her waist, pressing herself distractingly close to the Doctor’s back. “The Master, yes,” she murmured back, voice lilted in the perfect inflection of contempt that usually drove people mad with anger but also the disturbing tone of heavy sweetness. “Though _childhood friend_ is not entirely it.”

The Doctor rolled her eyes, grinning in what must have come across as an entirely ridiculous way, but she was too happy to care. “Well, of course, darling. You’re also my _oldest_ friend, my old classmate, my best enemy…” She started enumerating.

The hand on her waist clenched painfully, and she laughed breathily, trying to worm away from the poking fingers. Missy let her go, and the Doctor instantly felt suspicious.

At first, nothing strange happened — then, she felt a warm breath on her neck just in time with Ryan’s groan and the feeling of sharp teeth clenching around her skin.

“Fuck!” She hissed, elbowing back reflexively. “ _Master_!” She complained, trying to hold as still as possible so not to worsen the mark that was sure to be left on her.

It didn’t take long and soon Missy was leaning back, practically radiating smugness through her mind as the Doctor raised a hand to rub at the bitten area of her neck.

Graham coughed awkwardly, looking at the Doctor’s face with an almost embarrassing focus. “So, you guys… are also…”

“Shagging?” Ryan offered dryly, though his face was decidedly darker than normal.

“Oh, certainly,” Missy agreed airily, setting down easily in a free chair of the table the humans were sitting. “But we always did that, even when we were trying to kill each other.”

Shrugging, the Doctor followed suit, sitting on the chair by her side, legs stretched in front of her, knocking lightly against Missy’s own crossed legs. “Like I said, best enemies.” She grinned at her friends. “It’s _really_ hard to get rid of her, you see. And when you keep stumbling upon your wife… even when you _are_ trying to kill each other…”

A moment’s pause where the Doctor managed to keep from smirking with much difficulty (Missy’s _:oh dear, you’re such a sadist sometimes,:_ echoing laughingly in her mind), before Graham managed to choke out. “Your wife.”

She nodded happily. “Oh yeah. Oldest of them all.”

Somehow, Graham’s face managed to get even paler. “You have more than one?”

This time, it was Missy’s amusement that brimmed in her mind. “Oh, the Doctor has _so many_ wives it’s hard to keep track of.”

“Ah!” The Doctor looked over, seeing Ryan with a perplexed look on his face. “I remember something about this. Did you marry Marilyn Monroe?”

Laughter bubbled out of her before she could grit down on it. “Yes, Ryan. I did marry Marilyn Monroe.”

 _Amusementcuriositywhy?_ “Really?”

Yaz tilted her head, staring at them calmer now. “You didn’t know?”

Graham piped in, raising one hand as if he were a student in a classroom. “And how does that even _work_? Do you just… go around marrying people?”

 _:Humans,:_ sighed Missy dramatically.

 _:Do I need to remind you of the drama you threw?:_ She asked back cheerfully.

Missy ignored her blithely. “Aliens, terribly long-lived, time-travelling, capable of changing gender.” She waved at the both of them. “Do you think we marry once and that is it?”

“Well, to be _fair,_ ” the Doctor murmured, thinking of their stuffy families. “I am very sure most Time Lords don’t bother to marry even the once.”

Missy agreed to that with a small shrug. “We’ve never been too traditional, Thete.”

“True.”

“So,” Missy continued, “most relationships between our people are open ones. I have been married twice besides this one to the Doctor.”

Yaz interfered then, gaping at them. “Wait, did you _just_ marry?”

“No!” the Doctor exclaimed, but, at the same time, Missy agreed smiling lightly. “Oh yes.”

She turned around to stare at Missy. “Hey! I thought we’d agreed we were married since Gallifrey!”

A snort. “Oh no. We agreed that you have _terrible_ manners. It’s different. I can’t have agreed to marrying you when I didn’t even _know_ you were asking.”

She kept gaping at Missy, betrayed, and was well on her way of starting a whole slew of protesting when she was interrupted by Ryan, who seemed to not care about the atmosphere as he started laughing.

“Oh, mate, did you just decide on your own you two were married?”

“No!” She protested, pouting. “I asked her properly!”

“You _promised to travel with me_. And then proceeded to run away from me.” Missy pointed out, raising an eyebrow in her direction. “You might have _meant_ for it to be a marriage proposal, love, but it was, _at most_ , a request, and it never went through.”

She raised herself from the her chair, guilty and stubborn and decided to make her point. “Very well!” She declared, huffing. “Then go change your clothes, Kosch. If we’re doing this, we’re doing this _properly_. C’mon.”

She turned to leave, walking to the doors.

“Doc? Where you going?”

She glanced over her shoulder, smirking at her gathered friends. “I’m going to take us to get married, of course!” Belatedly, she added. “And you will come as witnesses.”

She left, thinking of everything she’d need. She would need to change clothes, as well. Maybe a dress? She wanted something pretty…

She thought of how Missy was dressed the first time they saw each other and corrected herself instantly. No, not a dress.

She’d wear a _suit_.

She felt a maniac smile spread over her face, and laughed at the idea of doing this again. This time, she would do it _properly_ , too. No half- anything.

Which meant…

She ran back to the kitchen, poking her head in to see Graham still standing in the room, even if everyone else had already vacated. No matter, just one was enough.

“Graham?” She called, trying not to startle him too much. “Could you do me a favour?”

He turned around, wide eyed and fidgety. “Uh. Yeah?”

She bounced, thinking of sweets and spices and fruits and proper ties, but reminded herself she’d have to make do with what the TARDIS managed to get them. “Prepare me a picnic.”

And _then_ she left. She had a room to find, after all.

**.**

She flicked the engines off, feeling secure in her parking for once. She hadn’t even let Missy touch the console this time, so she could keep the secret, but Sexy wouldn’t let her mess up _again_. Not with this!

She opened the doors with a snap — and glanced out, because her security was a thing she had never been too confident about, actually. Still, she _was_ right, this time. She grinned satisfied, leaving the doors open as she tapped the projection button on the TARDIS’s console.

“Miss, Fam, we’re here!” She spoke into the speaker, hearing her voice echoing in the TARDIS’s rooms.

She bounced in place, flicking a stray lint from her clothing as she waited, hearts hammering away in her throat. She had been the one to request the solitude, wanting to make everything perfect, but now that she had to wait for everyone else to come she realized how bad an idea that was.

She bit on her lower lip, listening out for the world outside. Breezy. Not a single raindrop — or a single hint of a tempest that she could smell. Chilly, but not in excess. Alive, but not loud.

Sounded right.

“Wow, Doctor.” She looked up; Yaz had beaten everyone else to the room, hair pulled into braids and dressed in a charming little dress. “I have never seen you so dressed up!”

Graham followed her suit and had apparently heard Yaz’s commentary, for he looked her up and down before shaking his head. “I don’t know; you were very dressed up when we went dancing.”

She grinned at them, satisfied that at least they seemed to have liked the clothes. “Thanks!”

Still, where were the others? She looked over Graham’s shoulders, frowning slightly, and laughed when Ryan stumbled in, hands filled with a large basket and mumbling annoyed about how “You shouldn’t have left everything for me to carry, Granddad!”

The witnesses — her current family — were present and accounted for, at the very least. She breathed out, relieved, and fell back in her heels, burrowing her hands into her pants’ pockets.

“Hey, could you lot go outside?” She asked, inclining her head to the doors behind herself. “Prepare the picnic? I’m afraid there’s gonna be some… what’s the current human term? Snogging! — and I don’t know whether you’re comfortable with that.”

“Uh, yeah, count me out,” Ryan was quick to volunteer, speeding past her. “Oh, by the way, you look nice, mate.” He added when he was already out of the TARDIS, large basket in his hands.

Graham was next, trotting quickly after Ryan. “Wait for me, Son! And you, Doc, deep breaths.”

And thus the Doctor was left alone with Yaz — smiling, brilliant Yaz, looking utterly beautiful and warm as she stared at the Doctor.

“Don’t be so nervous,” Yaz recommended, voice a little murmur. “You two are great for each other. And, you _are_ already married, are you not?”

She shrugged, looking around uneasy. “I thought so, yeah.” She decided not to say anything to the first half of Yaz’s advice. She still wasn’t sure whether they _were_ good for each other or not, after all, but this was not the kind of thing anyone ever _knew_. You just _hoped_ , she had learned long ago. Hoped to be the best for the one you loved. “Thanks.”

Yaz nodded, patting her on the arm lightly before leaving.

Once alone again, the Doctor could feel the TARDIS warning her of the approach of Missy — a feeling that was a mix of danger, longing and aching desire, creeping closer and closer.

She appeared in the doorway accompanied with the sound of a rising chorus from Sexy (who was a _meddlesome bother_ , sometimes), looking incredibly…

“Beautiful.” The Doctor murmured, awestruck.

“Why, thank you, dear,” answered Missy easily, spinning in place slowly to show off her clothing. “You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

In an interesting turn of events, it seemed like they had changed places from their first meeting, the Doctor realized with a grin. She herself had chosen a suit (though white) to see how it fit her, while Missy had chosen a well fit, turtle-necked black dress with a body hugging overcoat tossed over it. The Doctor had never seen this body of Missy in a dress before — not even in skirts as she had preferred last time —, but it looked _good_ on her. She had really, _really_ long legs, actually, and the boots she was wearing just made them…

Well. The Doctor swallowed heavily and looked back up, noticing a smirk on Missy’s face.

“Shall we?” She asked, offering Missy an arm that didn’t shake out of sheer luck.

Missy curtsied back mockingly, a grin on her face as she took the Doctor’s arm. Instead of walking them to the doors, though, Missy pulled her closer, her free hand curling around the Doctor’s nape, and she went willingly, smiling into Missy’s lips as they crashed together.

 _:Mine,:_ murmured Missy between them, feeling utterly satisfied for once.

 _:Mine too,:_ the Doctor retorted, caressing her face with her free hand, fingers lingering on the warm curve of a cheek. _:Ours.:_

They parted with a longing kiss, surprisingly before their respiration bypass even kicked in.

“C’mon,” the Doctor murmured with a smile. “We have a marriage to officialise.”

The Doctor once thought them married in the spot of the forest that had been just theirs, back between their homes; sitting under silver trees and the starry night, their witness just the crickets between the red grass and the stars on the sky.

Now, she found them a place that looked as similar as possible to Gallifrey without actually _being_ Gallifrey. Soft, pink grass spread over their feet, dark roots curving away from the path the Doctor had found so long ago, leading to a cliff on the other end of it. A cliff that was situated just right, the Doctor knew, to see the whole world — and, more importantly, to see the frozen waters below and the dark sky above.

“Well,” Missy murmured, voice thick with emotions that bled distractingly between their bond. “You have surpassed yourself, Thete.”

The Doctor smiled proudly, nudging Missy along to the side where her friends had settled down on a large, spread sheet on the ground. With them, several fruits and sweets the Doctor recognized deep in her chest, and she smiled, thankful for her old girl. She might be a meddlesome old girl, but she was still the Doctor’s oldest friend after Koschei.

“A feast, dear?” There was a clear smile in Missy’s voice, her hand tightening with _fondnessmineadorablelove_ around the Doctor’s arm. “You certainly went all-out this time.”

She offered Missy a grin, “Well, apparently I have millennia to make up for. I’m giving you a _proper_ marriage, this time, since you made such a fuss for my previous one.”

Missy’s breath caressed her face warmly as she leaned in to press a small kiss to the Doctor’s cheek, lips pulled into a tiny smile. “Well then. Amaze me, my Doctor.”

 _Oh, she was **on** ,_ the Doctor decided with a grin. She waved her friends up, pulling Missy by the hand to the edge of the cliff, lit up just right by the stars and full moon over them. “This is gonna be _brilliant_ ,” she promised, letting go of Missy’s hands just so she could pull a red, _proper_ lace-worked fabric from her inner pocket.

Yaz, Ryan and Graham had gathered around them, now, and she could see them watching — could even hear them murmuring between themselves, but she did not pay them much attention, offering one edge of the fabric to Missy and holding the other edge in her own left hand.

Together, they wove the fabric over their right wrists and hands easily, clasping their hands together to make the process easier. It reminded the Doctor of a marriage that never was, of a time that never happened, and it sent her hearts soaring and falling at the same time.

“With this,” she murmured quietly when the fabric was well woven over them, tied tightly and strikingly. “I ask permission to marry you, Koschei.”

It’s not their real name. But then, they had always known each other’s names, ever since they first met, before they had first chosen their very first name, even, and it’s easy to slip it into this part of the ceremony, either way. From the smile on Missy’s face, she agreed perfectly, leaning closer to her in return.

“And I concede it to you, Theta, as long as you accept to marry me, as well.”

Through their united palms, it was easy to feel their four beat heartsbeats thrumming together, just slightly out of rhythm with each other but close enough to sound like music, to sound like _them_. The hum started deep into the Doctor’s chest, coming from muscles she didn’t usually exercise; it was easily taken over by Missy, chirping thrills shaping themselves together to her melody.

The words they speak then are not for human ears. They are words of promise, of pledging, of love, of _devotion_. They are their lullaby, sung from their cradle, and they are words that are born in their chest, in their souls, the words that can never mean anything but _them_. The spark between their souls, their minds, their hands, ignited all over again, stronger than ever; all-consuming, a flame that licked at their hearts, lungs, minds, and left behind a branding of each other.

It was clear that this was a _proper_ marriage; not a one-hearted one, not one of the marriages their people had partaken in for so long back in Gallifrey, but one of the marriages they had learned about in lore and myths back at the Academy, one of the marriages that were supposed to have been created by the gods before them. It was more than a marriage, even; it was a _bonding_.

And once it was done, there would be no backing out.

 _:I accept,:_ the Doctor offered first, overwhelmed by emotions and thoughts that weren’t hers, by _lovedesireminepossessivenessfondnessdevotion_ swirling inside her mind. _:I give.:_

Missy’s voice in her mind was just as overwhelmed, just as breathless. _:I give.:_ A hint of a smile, a lilt of laughter and music in the minds that were no longer _hers_ but _theirs_. _:I accept.:_

The Doctor wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but they connected half-way, lips brushing heatedly as they whispered names — the names that were for no one’s ears but theirs.

The bond settled with a burst of light, a burst of _time_ , their past-present-future melding together in a way that promised no more running away.

“It’s done,” Missy whispered, voice heavy and thick, and kissed her. Teeth and tongue and _fire_ , everything overwhelming and not-nearly-enough, taking her over and asking for more at the same time.

The Doctor offered her just as much emotion, just as much devotion, just as much passion, and hoped Missy would understand it all.

 _:It’s done,:_ she agreed.

Around them, her friends clapped, hesitant and slow, but adorably _earnest_ in their offerings of congratulations, and the Doctor felt she hadn’t been this happy in a _long_ time.


	24. lie with me and just forget the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how I said “no angst ‘til chapter 26”? I mean, there’s no angst between Doctor and Missy just yet! But there’s some slight angst with Doctor and Graham in this chapter, because marriages and such.  
> Also, this chapter is the reason why this story is rated M. It’s very, uh, _implied_ , but it’s there? Well. I think this would survive as a T-story, really, but just to err on the safe side…
> 
> (Oh, right; should I mention now that I’ve written this whole story imagining Missy as a black person? Or at least a person of colour, the shade itself only affirmed itself in my mind by this chapter... It’s kind of mentioned in this chapter, so I thought I should warn before it became apparent, but still, you can imagine it however you want, I guess.)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. Song is “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol (though I listened to the version by — guess who?! — Sleeping At Last!)**  
>  _(btw, this was the first chapter I gave a title to. I really like it?)_

**Chapter 24**

They fell back into the TARDIS as a group, the Doctor laughing with a silly bubble of cheerfulness inside her chest, feeling alcohol and happiness swimming together in her veins. Around her waist, holding her up, was Missy’s cool arm, her hand splayed possessively over the curve of the Doctor’s hip.

Yaz giggled almost falling over them (warmwarmwarm, _too_ warm) as Missy stopped them by the console. “Sorry, sorry,” giggled Yaz again, stumbling back. “I think I should… should go to my _broom_ …” she giggled. “No, no, no broom. No groom either.” She snorted, listing dangerously to the side. “Room. Gonna go. Room.”

The Doctor shook her head, grinning largely at the girl’s antic. She was such an adorable drunk, it was _cute_.

“Go’n,” she waved her off, leaning into Missy’s side with a pleased hum. “We’ll… gonna go soon, too.”

Lips brushed against her head, and she tilted her head back, allowing Missy to kiss her skin directly, loving the spark of the belongingness that burned at the contact. “Mm, want to enjoy the perks of being _married_ properly,” murmured Missy heavily, voice a low tone of Gallifrey her friends thankfully could not understand. “In a bed perhaps, this time.”

Absolutely certain a flush had appeared on her face, the Doctor smiled at her friends. “Yes! We… uh, we’re going! Right? Right!” She clapped, clearly startling a sleepy Ryan out of his slow descent to the ground. “Brilliant! You guys — get some rest!”

Ryan looked at her for a moment, eyes lingering on Missy’s hand on her, and smirked slowly. “Oh, of course, mate. Go enjoy your honeymoon. Just keep the volume down, yeah?”

She felt Missy snort against her skin, warm and gusty. “Oh, dear Thete, seems like your pets are not _that_ stupid, mm?”

She grinned even more brilliantly, pushing Missy ahead and stumbling after her when she was pulled along. “Right! Uh, g’night, fam!”

Before she managed to scramble out of the console room, she heard Graham call out, teasingly: “Night, Doc. We’ll try not to bother you for the next few days!”

“Oh yeah.” Missy drawled, all pretence of drunkenness leaving her with a sharp smirk. “I approve of this lot.”

**.**

The Doctor groaned a bit, arching away from the cold metal behind her back. She quickly settled back against the wall, though, as Missy pressed against her, hungry and warm, mouth descending on hers with burning desire to _eat her whole_ , as Missy’s mind so charmingly put it.

She grabbed at Missy’s curls with one hand — simply because she had learned that Missy’s curls were terribly soft and _nice_ against her fingers, and she was incredibly in favour of grabbing them —, and at her hips with her other, pulling her closer.

“Oh, dear Thete,” crooned Missy softly as she pulled back, lips glistening with saliva and smattered lipstick. “You will certainly stop thinking so much by the end of this. Let’s see how long it takes, shall we?”

To the Doctor’s utter embarrassment, she might have stopped thinking by the time her suit started to get thrown to the ground. Or when Missy’s lips found her throat, all pointed teeth and warm tongue, marking her much more than she had ever dared before. Or when Missy’s own dress was tossed away, even more mocha skin revealed to her roaming hands to grab.

(Or perhaps, she might have to admit to herself, she forgot her own mind by the time Missy started crooning more and _more_ promises against her skin — as she kissed her way down the Doctor’s body, as she pushed the Doctor on the suddenly too small bed, as she kissed her utterly senseless.

Either way, her thought process certainly did not remain for long, and she would only think of all this later on, as she laid curled over Missy’s chest, trailing marks of her own on her _wife’s_ jaw and throat.)

**.**

Parallel to how little time it took the Doctor to forget her own thoughts, it took them a _stupidly_ long time for them to even think of leaving the Doctor’s bedroom. Somehow, through much interference of the TARDIS, she was sure, they even got food in the room whenever they _absolutely_ needed it, and they never quite got to the dressing bit of cleaning up, seeing how there was a bathroom that, conveniently, could be reached directly from her bedroom.

In fact, the Doctor only ever managed to convince Missy they had to leave the room because she started feeling _Sexy_ grow restless around them, groaning and whizzing impatiently, and she remembered sharply hat they hadn’t even left the planet where they had married, in the first place.

“You were the one who got so embarrassed by your _humans_ watching as we behaved as proper spouses are wont to that you just ran away from them, dear.” Missy pointed out with a lopsided smirk, lounging on the Doctor’s bed with her fifth book in two days, many more scribbles left behind in the pages than the Doctor even dared think about. “We could have easily sent your ship to the Vortex before stumbling into your quarters.”

The Doctor scoffed, buttoning up a shirt she was almost sure had been part of her suit. Or part of her _old_ white suit, back from Chinny. Or one of Missy’s clothes. Either way, it smelled clean and as either one of them; plus, it fit her well enough. “Oh, _please_. With how you were whispering in my ear? It was more likely you would attack me in plain view of my friends.” _Or that she would pilot the TARDIS into a black hole, if she tried to get away from there._

She caught a smile on Missy’s face even as Missy moved around, hiding behind the now raised book. “I have _no idea_ what you are talking about.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorted lightly. She glanced down — pants, boots, shirt — and deemed herself presentable. “I’m going to send us… somewhere else. Any preference?”

Missy hummed, turning a page almost lazily. “Somewhere exciting, perhaps.”

She grinned, shaking her head as she walked to the doors. “Of course, darling. As long as there’s no taking over involved in it…”

Laughter echoed in her mind, even as Missy remained absolutely silent out loud.

**.**

By the time she arrived at the console room, she had stumbled upon Yaz and Ryan who, between blushes and smirks, managed to tell her that Graham had “gone out to stretch his legs” — and, sure enough, the doors to the TARDIS were open when she arrived there.

She shook her head with a soft smile, warning Missy distractedly as she directed herself to the doors. _:Going to find myself my errant friend. Find us a proper honeymoon planet when I’m back.:_

She didn’t wait for an agreement before leaving — though, the newly formed bond allowed her to feel it anyway, even without the aid from the TARDIS’s telepathic field —, already looking around for any sign of Graham.

She found him by the cliff edge looking down at the frozen lake. At some point while the Doctor and Missy had been sequestered away in their room it had snowed, it seemed, since the climate was even colder, snow was gathered on the ground, and Graham was dressed with a heavy coat over his clothes.

She spent one moment wishing she had thought to grab a coat for herself before realizing that Graham seemed to be crying.

“Oh.” She murmured, scratching at the back of her head. She observed for a moment longer, but Sexy was whirring in her mind, impatient, and she also felt the crave for _space_ inside — and, anyway, if Graham really didn’t want any company, he’d say so, and she’d respect his wishes.

She approached him, careful not to snap any fallen branch on the way, and settled by his side. The soft pink peeked carefully under the sparkling snow, and she smiled softly before reminding herself _not now_.

“Hey, Graham,” she said, staring off into the distant towns down below.

Even without looking at him, she could feel him startle, and she reached out a hand to balance him before he could even dare try to fall from the cliff.

“Doc,” he returned, voice breaking softly with tears and the lingering scare of almost losing one’s balance. “Hello.”

She hummed comfortingly. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah.” He laughed, choked up. “Just. Y’know. It’s… been too quiet, these past few days. And… this place…” She tilted her head and waited, patiently, as he choked up with tears, again. “I just.” He sighed. “I really wanted Grace to be able to see it, you know? She’d… she’d _love it_. And the wedding. She’d loved the wedding, too. I didn’t… didn’t understand much of it, but it was _beautiful_ , Doc. And Grace…”

She nodded, understanding it perfectly well. Emotion welled up in her hearts at his words; longing, nostalgia, yearning for something long gone — and happiness, relief, love for what she had.

“I understand.” She murmured, finally glancing at him. The peeking sun glittered on his grey hair in a way that made him look even older — and younger at the same time, somehow. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Seeing others… so happy with their loved ones. When yours is…”

He turned his face to look at her, brow scrunched up in confusion and hurt. Thankfully, though, his eyes were dry; red, but dry. “How d’you…” He stopped himself then, laughing at himself. “Of course. Alien. You said yourself, didn’t you? You were married to others not the Master.”

She smiled at him. “Yeah. I was.” She looked away again, hands clenched inside her pockets. “One of them… beautiful woman. Perfect. Almost designed to me, really,” she said it as if it were a joke, a small grin on the corner of her lips, but inside, she felt the pain of how _true_ that was, of the things that had been done to River because of her. “My favourite, I’d say.” At the strangled gasp from Graham, she laughed. “Oh, I loved all of them, of course. But most… most are quick things; people I met and loved enough to agree to their marriage proposal, when it came. But River… River was the one who was most like me.”

Graham’s voice was small as he asked, carefully, “Was?”

She nodded. “Mm. The day I met her was the day she died.” She admitted, closing her eyes. “After that… I spent _so long_ running from her. So much time I could have spent _with_ her, instead.” She added in a mutter. “Eventually, I did marry her. And it was impossible _not_ to love her. She was… she was _perfect_. Mine. Just mine, for once.”

She opened her eyes when she didn’t feel any tears blossoming up anymore.

“How did you…” Graham started, but didn’t complete the question.

She answered as best as she could, anyway. “Time. Accepting that _some_ times shouldn’t be rewritten.” She swallowed, a dry laugh taking over her voice then. “ _Hope_. Much hope. And… love. I never forgot my love for her, Graham.” She looked at him again and smiled. “Not even now that I’ve married Missy. Just as I never forgot my love for Missy while I was married to River. And just as I never forgot my love for those other people I married and those I loved but never got to marry.” _Like Rose,_ she thought sadly. Somewhere out there, in a whole another universe, Rose was likely married to another version of her, though, and sometimes, that was enough.

He nodded, slowly. “Love and hope.” He laughed, still sounding a bit wet around the edges, but much more grounded this time. “That sounds like something Grace would’ve said.” When he even managed to find a smile to offer her, she found herself returning it with both her hearts. “Thanks, Doc.”

She took one of her hands from her pockets and reached out, resting it on his shoulder for support. Slowly, carefully, she bled through some _love_ and some _hope_. “Always, Graham.” She nodded to her own hand. “And if you ever need help, you can always come to me, okay? Even if it’s just for someone to sit with in silence.”

He brightened up a bit, clearly affected by the emotions she bled into him, and she pulled back, happy with the results but unwilling to push too much and overwhelm his own feelings. “Thank you,” he repeated, even more sincere.

She grinned, and nodded back to the path they had come from. “Now, c’mon. How do you feel about going on an adventure again?”


	25. i've been less than half myself (for more than half my life)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say ‘bye-bye’ to the fam yet again. I did warn you that they weren’t very prominent characters in this story, right? I hope I did, ‘cuz, uh, yeah. Though I’m pretty sure they’re back by next chapter? Hm…  
> While I’m uncertain of _that_ , there is one thing I am certain of: next chapter we have angst. Like, the two of them have been… way too happy and nice, and shit is bound to happen, so. Yeah; it’ll happen next chapter.  
> Ah, remember the “lack of plot” thingie I mentioned? Uh-huh, this chapter has absolutely no plot. It’s a huge filler (though not a huge chapter). But I like it! So, it’s a _nice_ filler? Ehhh. Actually, I think the few smatterings of plot kind of… went away, after this. Except for the fighting/making-up, but, honestly, not sure if that can be considered _plot_ …
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. The song is “Nine” by Sleeping At Last.**   
>  _(again. But, hey, “Nine” is pretty cool. And this quote of the lyrics is terribly nice for the both of them, mhmm)_

**Chapter 25**

‘An adventure’ turned into a small tour, from Big Bang to End of the Universe (though not literally because the Doctor, for one, certainly wasn’t in the mood to deal with _that_ again. Been there, done that, would prefer not to repeat it).

Showing The Big Bang to others was always something of a thrill, and she was glad to see even Missy could get warmed up by it, though the Doctor was very sure that Missy had come to watch it on her own before.

After seeing the Sun eat most of their galaxy, though, her friends seemed to crash back into reality quite roughly. Similarly to, well, very much every single one of her friends she had shown the end of Earth, she supposed.

“Sorry, Doc,” Graham muttered, scratching at his head. “It’s not… we still want to travel with you, of course!” He added — she wondered, fleetingly, what kind of face she had made for him to add that. Or maybe he was simply remembering when she had been wearing her Jester Hat and they’d asked her to wait and she had blown it out of proportion.

“Yeah.” Nodded Ryan, seriously. “It’s just… right now…” He glanced at the monitors of the TARDIS once more, still parked at the time of the expansion of the Sun. “We are dead, out there. We’ve been dead and buried underground for… how many years, now?”

She shrugged, jaw clenched with memories that shouldn’t be bothering her but were, anyway. There had been others. There had been… many ghosts before them _(To you, we are all ghosts,_ she hear hauntingly, a voice she almost forgot forever, a truth that ironically exempted their speaker _)_.

“We just. I need to see my family, Doctor.” Yaz pleaded, eyes wet. “Just for a while. Anyway, it’s been… long. I think. And I have a job. Remember? I need to work, sometimes, else I’ll just forget how to do my job. And, well. I need to… _live_ , a little. Before I forget how to be human.”

She swallowed hard, but nodded. “Of course. Yeah, sure. Brilliant. Makes sense.” She offered them a smile; it was temporary, they’d come back for her. They’d said so. “So… half an hour after we left, you think?”

Graham patted her on the shoulder with a gentle smile. “Make it an hour? And, ah, give us the chance to wash up first, maybe.”

“Right.” She laughed. “Right. Makes sense. Go on then, fam. Go wash up so I can drop you off for some vacations, yeah?”

They went, strangely obedient, and she stared after them with a small frown.

_:It’s fine, dear,:_ Missy offered mentally, keeping the silence in the TARDIS — apart from the very obvious sounds of revolving Time Rotor and whirring melody, of course. _:Your pets are… terribly loyal. Like dogs. And while they are away,:_ she added, pulling the Doctor into her with a smirk on her face. _:I promise to keep you thoroughly occupied.:_

That startled a laugh out of her. “Thanks,” she murmured back.

It was startlingly easy to burrow into Missy’s arms — just wrap one arm around her waist and drop her head to Missy’s shoulder, taking in her scent and warmth and buzzing thoughts whirling lazily with hers.

They stood like that, the Doctor simply breathing Missy in in silence, for moments that might have been seconds or days, her time sense muted for the time being, before footsteps reached them again.

Before anyone entered the room, Ryan’s voice reached them, teasingly. “You guys decent? We coming in!”

She laughed, drawing back much calmer than before. She turned, offering Ryan a smirk when he finally poked his head in, a small grin on his own face.

“Hey, mate,” he greeted happier. “Nice to see you still have all your clothes on.”

“Oh, with how long you were gone, we could have easily been done and dressed back up,” Missy answered airily, walking around the Doctor to reach the console. “And it is not quite _necessary_ for clothes to come off, pet.”

The Doctor knew it had been just a teasing remark to bother Ryan, but still, the _possibilities_ …

_:We might have to try it out,:_ she organized for Missy to catch, smirking at Ryan’s blushing grimace.

Missy answered her with a pleased hum of desire that the Doctor quite approved of.

Before Missy could embarrass Ryan anymore, Graham came calling, footsteps slower and heavier than Ryan’s. “Ryan, Son?”

“Here!” Ryan called back, relief bleeding on his face. “They are dressed, don’t worry. Though I’m not sure about… proper or not.”

Graham appeared at the door, a grin on his face. “Oh, Son, one’d think you’d have learned not to question the Master by now.”

Missy positively lit up, thrumming happily with a laughter that did not escape her lips. “Why, pet, I do believe your grandfather is the smarter one between the two of you.” Sexy started to hum and buzz, dematerializing from the time period as Missy flicked switches and punched buttons lazily. “Is that the ‘wisdom of age’ I have heard about? You could do with some of it, dear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she huffed lightly, stepping up to help Missy with the controls and distract her from embarrassing any of them further. “Says the one who’s always thwarted by me.”

Missy laughed cheerfully, a delightful hum in her voice. “Oh, dear; I think you have spent too long with children filling your ego.”

“Not children.” She protested automatically, glaring up at Missy through her eyelashes. “Perfectly consenting adults!”

“Are they talking about us?” Oh, look, Yaz’s here.

She grinned over her shoulder at the last of her friends, waving cheerfully. “Just a sec. Almost at Earth.”

“And I’m even correcting her timezone,” Missy added with an eye roll. “Thete, you need to learn to pilot your TARDIS.”

“I _do_ know!”

One of her friends snickered — “yeah, sure.”

_Traitors_.

_:You are the one who adopts them, dear.:_

She snorted. _:True enough.:_

**.**

They left her friends at the park in front of Yaz’s house — and regretfully (in the Doctor’s case; Missy barely felt a flicker of curiosity, as it was) rejected an invitation for tea. Tea at Yaz’s. The Doctor still remembered when that had left her fluttery and silly, last time.

After returning to Sexy, Missy returned the TARDIS to the Time Vortex with smooth efficiency.

“So. All the stars on the universe. Where do you want to go?”

Startled, she laughed — it reminded her sharply of herself, standing with her past friends, offering them _(candies to a child)_ ‘everything that ever was and everything that ever will be’.

“How about Venus? I am in the mood for some Venusian spearmint, and the Venusian rubies are very interesting, too, I wanted some for my next Jiggling Thing.” She looked at her empty hands, and added. “Or my next ring. I’ve known Venusian aikido for a very long time now, and I think red suits me well, don’t you?”

The TARDIS lurched, groaning softly with old age and the need of maintenance soon (she made a mental note of that), but vibrating determinately to their destination. As Missy turned her way, flicking another set of levers, she offered the Doctor a slight smirk.

“Matching ones, perhaps?” Missy said so easily, tone as if she were just commenting about the weather (which, of course, was ridiculous, because they were still floating between stars and, _hello_?) that the Doctor took a second to realize she was talking about the _ring_.

She flushed, ducking her head with a smile. “Yeah. Sounds brilliant.”

Sexy thumped, falling with a loud wailing and a rough shake, and the Doctor allowed herself to stumble into Missy’s arms, grinning madly.

“Idiot,” Missy murmured. Despite her words, there was a smile on her lips as she leaned down, pressing them against the Doctor’s brow. “Let’s go, dear. We have rings to create, spearmint to harvest, hopefully something to fix your TARDIS to find, and we could perhaps avoid the Sporebeetles while at it, if at all possible with _you_ there to bring us bad luck.”

She reared back with mock outrage, trying to control her face not to let it slip into another grin. “ _Rude_ ,” she said, huffing. Her lips were twitching though, she knew they were, and she allowed a small smirk as she stepped back, slipping away from Missy’s hands with a flick of her wrists. “Catch me if you can!”

And raced to the doors, thinking of ways to stay ahead of Missy without even knowing where they had parked, in the first place.

**.**

They avoided the Venusian Sporebeetles. That was more or less all they could say, though.

“ _How_ do you always walk right into these kinds of situations?” A blouse hit her on the head as she leaned forward to kick her pants off, and she stumbled, shucking it to the ground instead. Ahead of her, Missy continued complaining loudly. “It’s like you put off all these _pheromones_ — are you covered in those? I should examine you later; maybe you are and I have never realized — that simply attract every sort of danger, really!”

Her own clothes piled on the ground, dirty and foul-smelling, and she scrunched her nose, still smelling the mud and sap on their skin, as well as the utterly awful scent of animal slime.

A hand cradled through her hair — and she wasn’t sure which one was dirtier, Missy’s hand or the Doctor’s hair. “Bath?” Missy offered softly, charming smile on her face.

She looked down at Missy’s lips, somehow still managing to look terribly delectable despite all the dirt on their bodies, and offered her a small whisper, “Yeah, sounds brilliant.”

After a bath that turned into two, skin and hair squeaky clean at last and smelling of nothing but each other and a fresh-smelling soap, the Doctor found herself staring at her clothes and utterly unwilling to put them on.

Missy stopped by her side, also staring at her clothes on the ground, still dirty and smelly, and offered, “Wardrobe?”

She should likely put these in the washing room first…

She turned to Missy and grinned. “Sure.”

The wardrobe was, as always, an utter mess, just as she liked it. Missy made a terrible noise at her back, but she ignored her blithely, roaming curiously between the hangers. She hadn’t come here too many times since regenerating, mainly just asking for small closets when she needed something to throw over the clothes she had bought on Earth with her friends. The wardrobe seemed… terribly _big_. She _had_ been here before, of course, but every single time it always seemed _bigger_ , somehow. Even when she didn’t add a thing to it.

“Wow,” she murmured, taking in hands a peculiar yet familiar skirt. “Is this what you used to wear last time? How did it even end up here?”

Missy hummed curiously, and the Doctor turned around to show it to her. “Oh. Yes, it is, indeed. Is your TARDIS stealing my clothing, dear?”

Sexy hissed annoyed over their heads. “I don’t think she appreciated that, Miss.”

“Doesn’t make it untrue.” Missy muttered, turning back to her own rack. “Is this my old clothes from when you were exiled on Earth?”

Wide-eyed and leaving Missy’s old skirt behind, the Doctor bounced closer to Missy and the clothes she was checking out. True enough, there was a black… shirt-thing, high-collared and long-sleeved, and very, very _proper_.

“You think that’s long enough for me to use as a dress?” She asked, staring at the shirt curiously. “It always seemed so warm… well, your coats from last time… no, wait, two faces back — especially the one you were using when you faced me with two faces at the same time —, those were _pretty_. But I don’t have any of those, unfortunately.”

Grey eyes turned to stare at her slowly, and she stared back with a smile, waiting it out.

Slowly, Missy swallowed heavily, putting the shirt down. “More than that…” She kept staring at the Doctor with heavy eyes, and the Doctor was reminded suddenly that they were both in a state of undress as of yet, and if this continued much longer, she didn’t think they _would_ put anything other than their underclothes on, after all. “I have stored my clothes from when I was… Yana… here somewhere.”

“Oh.” She bit her lower lip, thinking about it. Was she okay with it? Well… well. “No waistcoat, though.”

Missy’s smile was as breath taking as the kiss that followed it. “Of course, dear.”

Missy managed to find it remarkably fast, in the Doctor’s opinion, soon coming back with her arms heavy with the white shirt, black scarf, black pants, and… a coat? A long, black coat with… inner red lining. _The Master’s coat,_ the Doctor recognized with a flush in her hearts.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, the Doctor took the clothes and turned around. “Just… just a sec.” She asked, putting the clothes on one of the many supports around.

She heard a small agreement behind her, and hoped it would hold for _more_ than a second, because, really. Her hearts were just… so, so _strange_. All… fluttery and clenched and…

_Ah._ She realized, as she pulled the blouse around her. She was _anxious_. Good anxious — excited, perhaps? But not her usual eagerness; it was… more jarring, more bone-deep. Something… she wasn’t entirely sure about it, but she felt as if she was impatient and wistful and _longing_. As if this were more than just wearing Koschei’s old clothes.

As if it were more than _marrying_ Koschei, even.

It was strange — but not entirely unpleasant.

She finished buttoning the blouse up, and lingered for a moment before putting on the pants. She took the scarf and the coat in hands and went in search of Missy when she realized her wife wasn’t there with her anymore.

“Miss?” She called, side-stepping one of the hanging racks. “You finished?”

There was some dull thud, some shuffling, a muffled curse, then, at last, Missy calling back. “Back here!”

Following her voice and feeling, the Doctor dodged some piles of clothes and racks — and the stairs, where did those come from? — before finding Missy by a set of mirrors she didn’t even know where there.

“Oh.” She murmured, blinking slowly as she took Missy in. “The red… looks good on you.”

Missy turned to stare at her, a smirk on her lips as she posed mock bashfully, playing with her hair. “You think so, dear? I do admit the velvet feels much softer than I expected.”

She nodded, eyes glued to Missy’s chest with unabashed interest. Missy had also unburied one of the Doctor’s past shirts — from back on her cockatoo’s regeneration, she thought, because it was social and clean, and absolutely _normal_ , no added flair to it —, and had decided to wear it with the first two buttons open, and it looked… kind of distracting.

Very, _very_ distracting, indeed. Especially when coupled with the red velvet jacket that fell on her _just so_ , accentuating her skin and her eyes and her _lips_ , and made her look utterly _beautiful_.

Not even the badly-fitted jeans could detract from it. Not even if she had added a _waistcoat_ she would have looked bad. Damn.

Missy snorted, stepping closer with careful steps, managing to keep herself upright quite spectacularly, despite the jeans pooled around her feet. “I see you have not managed to dress yourself, dear. Come here.”

The Doctor obeyed quietly, approaching her with as much care as possible when she was almost tripping over her own feet in her hurry to satisfy her wife.

Missy’s hands were warm and dry as they took the scarf from the Doctor’s own hands, tossing it carelessly over her own shoulders. Then, much to the Doctor’s embarrassment, she was helped into her coat by Missy, who stopped at every other moment to pull it so and so, fixing the collar and the hem and the buttons, leaving it clipped at the Doctor’s waist, but open below it and over it.

“Should we pop open some of your buttons as well?” Missy asked heatedly, sliding one hand up the Doctor’s chest to hover over her collarbones. “Or should I wrap this scarf so tightly over your pretty throat you will not be able to breathe without thinking of me?”

Hearts thrumming in her throat, she closed her eyes for a moment to centre herself again before answering, voice weak and as jittery as herself. “Cleavage. I’m not sure I enjoy anything on my throat, this time around.”

She was rewarded with a small peck on her lips, Missy’s grin feeling absolutely debauched against her skin. “Of course, dear. Cleavage it is, then.”

Missy certainly worked fast. In two seconds flat, the Doctor had two buttons undone, and Missy’s eyes were roving over her with dark satisfaction.

“You know what you look like, Thete?” She questioned, voice falling even heavier, eyes hooded darkly as they fixed on the Doctor’s eyes once again.

Mute for once, the Doctor shook her head.

Missy leaned in, mouth hovering just over her ear, hands wrapped tightly around her waist and hips. “ _Mine_.”

The dark satisfaction almost overwhelmed her in its intensity. Still, the Doctor managed to control it enough to pull back and offer Missy a smile, caressing her face with one hand, her other wrapped around Missy’s own waist.

“Yes, well.” She murmured, hovering over Missy’s lips, smelling Missy and the Time Vortex and space dust and _the Doctor_ , all over the clothes and Missy’s skin and Missy’s hair, overwhelming any hint of _anything else_. She smiled hungrily, projecting her own thoughts into Missy, her own satisfaction and desire and knowledge that this clothes just wouldn’t last.

(She thought she might understand what had her so anxious, after all.)

“You look mine, too.”


	26. i won't let you in (i swore never again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, heeey, terribly sorry for the following chapter — but they do end in a hopeful tone, I guess. So, yeah, angst, fighting and trauma ahead. Be warned.  
> Oh, also, I mention some of the Doctor’s past companions in this; I was thinking of mentioning the Doctor’s companions from Classic, as well, but, really, I know no one from back then, so I thought safer to keep to New companions, instead.
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters do not belong to me. Song of the moment is “Eight” by Sleeping At Last.**   
>  _(the name sounds bad, I guess, but it fits the chapter… especially because of what comes next in the lyrics)_

**Chapter 26**

As always happened, things went pear-shaped.

(She _knew_ there was a reason she hated pears.)

They got her friends back — two more weeks of rest and work and being _humans_ —, and they went back to travelling together, all five of them. They saw the 10 Wonders of the Universe (though it became more of the _20_ Wonders of the Universe, since she and Missy didn’t quite _agree_ with what those were, and there had been too many over the centuries for them to consult a ‘specialist’). They stumbled upon Cleopatra (the real one, this time. The one River married, not River pretending to be her, unfortunately — though she knew, deep down, it was meant to be this way). They stumbled upon _dinosaurs_ , again, because Sexy apparently liked those. They saved Neptune from being overrun by the Ice Warriors ( _again_ ).

They stumbled upon Cybermen.

Ever since her friends had come back, the Doctor had realized that Missy was starting to talk to them a bit more; that had resulted in several death threats spread through the day — Yaz was a favourite of hers, it seemed, possibly because the girl was the one to spend more time with Missy —, and the Doctor was _fine_ with that. She knew Missy, after all; she knew Missy was trying to be good, and she knew that she was _struggling_. She chided Missy every time she heard one of those threats, but she wasn’t particularly _angry_ ; that was almost a ‘hello’ on Missy’s part, after all.

Until, of course, the Cybermen.

When they stumbled upon the Cybermen — _Mondasian_ Cybermen, at that —, and Missy treated it all as a _joke_ , threatening to leave Ryan behind to be “upgraded” so he would “finally have control of his mouth”, the Doctor just.

She still remembered the Mondasian Ship with perfect clarity. She still remembered _hoping_ , a hope so strong it burnt her, and being utterly _disappointed_. She still remembered…

Bill. Amazing, beautiful, headstrong Bill Potts. Bill, who smiled when she didn’t understand something. Bill, who had given Earth to a race of tyrants just to _save him_. Bill who served chips and who was hopelessly romantic and _terrible_ at flirting.

Bill Potts, the Cyberman.

So. They stumbled upon Cybermen, Missy threatened Ryan, and suddenly it didn’t _matter_ that Missy’s tone was joking, that she was smirking and radiating fond amusement.

All that mattered was that Missy had _stolen her a friend before_ , and the Doctor was not allowing her to do so again.

She pushed Missy against the wall before she even knew what she was doing, sonic clenched in her hand as if it were a weapon, as if it were Missy’s own laser, and she just wanted to do _something_. Something _to Missy_. To make her…

_Regret it,_ the voice whispered in the back of her mind, sounding an awful lot like the same maniac Master that had left her to die.

“Don’t.” She hissed, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “Don’t you _dare_.”

Missy’s eyes were hard as they stared back at her, grey and gold mixing together in a sombre of _dangerdangerdanger_. “Let me go, Doctor.” She cautioned, voice thick and heavy.

“No. No, I don’t think I should.” The Doctor answered snappily, raising her sonic so it rested against Missy’s collarbone. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea. Not here.”

Those red, red lips — red, red like _blood_ , why did the Doctor never notice that — pulled back, and the Doctor wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a smirk or a threat.

From the anger simmering beneath her skin, she would guess a threat.

“And _I_ don’t think it’s a good idea to do this now. Or _here_.” Missy said back, coldly. “Let me _go_.”

She laughed, “Why? So you can control these Cybermen into attacking us?”

Under her hands, Missy stilled completely. “I had _nothing_ to do with it.”

She smiled; it felt terrible and cold and _hurtful_ even to herself, though, her hearts working at triple pace and clenched painfully in her chest. “Yeah. That’s what you said last time too. Look at Bill now, though.”

The point of a screwdriver (laser, not sonic, she remembered with a snort of disgust) hit her in the chin just as a hand touched her in the shoulder.

“What?” She snapped. She couldn’t look away from the danger in Missy’s eyes, couldn’t forget the threat in her throat, couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t.

Yaz’s voice was firm, though. A police voice. Firm and commanding and concerned, just as the hand in her shoulder blades was. “Doctor. Let her go.”

With Yaz’s hand against her, the Doctor realized she was trembling. She hadn’t even…

“Why? D’you know what she did?” She asked, voice tight as she still glared at Missy, words echoing in her mind — _upgrade, upgrade, upgrade they say_. Kill, they meant.

“No. But I know you trust her.” Another hand touched her, firmer, pulling her back. “And I know we are in danger here, and if you want to do this, you should do this back in the TARDIS.”

_Danger._

Right. The Cybermen. They were still free, still hunting them, and though they would gladly ignore the Doctor and Missy for their two hearts, they would take pleasure in _upgrading_ (killing, turning into _monsters_ ) her friends.

_Danger_.

“Right.” She muttered, stepping back.

In her hand, the sonic remained clenched, even when Missy allowed her laser to fall to her side in silent concurrence.

**.**

When they returned to the TARDIS, the Doctor was feeling calmer. Calm enough to stop and _think_ even.

“Could you guys… leave us alone a bit?” She asked, staring at the Time Rotor instead of looking at any of her friends. Or Missy.

“Do you think that’s a… good idea, mate?” Ryan asked in a low voice, standing right behind her, apparently.

She took a shaky breath. Did she? No, not really. But, she also thought it was quite _necessary_.

“I just want to… talk to her.” She answered in a whisper, taking a biscuit (though she had to slap at the console twice to get it) for something to do with her hands. “I swear.”

Ryan sighed, clearly unsure, but he stepped away. She could hear him muttering something to the others and, soon enough, she was left alone in the console room. With Missy.

Her hearts raced uncomfortably in her chest, and she clenched her hand around the biscuit — and then carefully relaxed it when she felt the biscuit start to crumble under her grasp.

When Missy offered nothing, she realized she would have to start it. Which, really, was only fair, seeing how it _was_ her fault. But it still sent a thrill of anxiety through her at the thought.

“Sorry.” She muttered, still incapable of turning around and actually _staring_ at Missy. “I shouldn’t…” Words escaped her; there were so many things she _shouldn’t have_ , it was hard to specify what, exactly, she was talking about. “I shouldn’t.” She settled for.

“No. You shouldn’t have.” Missy agreed, voice still unnaturally quiet and cold. Now she was calmer, though, the Doctor realized it lacked the particular flavour of anger this Missy… that _Koschei_ , really… favoured.

The Doctor couldn’t take it anymore. She spun around, and stared at Missy — or, at least, her general direction, staring at the set of her shoulders, the clench of her hands. “It was just…” She tried to explain, but not even she, herself, was too sure what it had been.

Anger, yes. Fear. One would even say _trauma_ , if she were human.

But she wasn’t human. Bill wasn’t the first friend she had lost. Hell, she wasn’t even the first friend Missy had cost her.

It was just…

“I understand you were concerned about your friends.” Missy said back; the Doctor could glean nothing from her voice though, and her thoughts were shuttered off to her, and it drove her _mad_. “And I understand I _did_ change Bill Potts into a Cyberman, last time we were together.”

Something in her tone, hidden as it was, made the Doctor look at her — actually _look_ at her, at her face. Her eyes were still that mix of grey and yellow, of silver and gold, that were dangerous and… and oh so _careful_. Cold, but…

_Hurt_.

Missy was _hurt_.

And the Doctor was the one to hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured again, advancing one step. She… wasn’t ready to get too close yet, though, and stopped distant enough for them to have space for themselves, but close enough for the Doctor to be able to _see_ her.

“Yes, well. I thought we had agreed I was never a good person, Doctor. I can see why you would think I was behind this.”

But Missy’s lips were pulled — not into a smirk or a threat, not really; of course, it posed the front perfectly (as either of them, really), but it also expressed a bit of self-deprecation the Doctor had never seen in Koschei before. A bit of self-deprecation she was much more used at seeing on _herself_.

“No.” She said more firmly, shaking her head and stepping closer still. “No, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that. The circumstances were _awful_ , yes, but I _know_ you. And, like Yaz said — I _trust_ you. I trust you.”

Was she saying that for Missy’s sake or her own?

“Well. Sometimes it is hard to remember that when I am not _kind_ like you are, is it not, Doctor?”

She felt her own lips twitching into her own self-deprecating smile. “Kind? Who?” She shook her head. “No. No, the problem is that I didn’t want to admit you _have_ changed, I suppose. That it was never _your_ fault that Bill…”

Missy took her own step closer, this time. Her hands were unclenched at her sides, the Doctor noticed, gazing at her up and down carefully. _Missy_ was much less tense, really. Even though the Doctor still felt poised on the edge of flight. Or fight.

“It was.” Missy admitted, shrugging quietly. “I _was_ the one to change her.” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “To _kill_ her.”

_Not upgrade, but kill,_ her previous thoughts returned to her, and she smiled wryly. Seemed like even in the middle of a fight, Missy was still paying attention to her thoughts.

“Well. Was it?” She returned, sighing softly. “Or was it mine? They all warned me that it might not be the best time to take you out for a test… and to take _Bill_ with us was…” She shook her head. “Anyway. It doesn’t matter. It’s done. And, yes, I _knew_ all about it before I decided we should try again. I remembered Bill. I remembered Clara. I remembered Martha. I remembered… well. Anyway. I _remembered_ all you had done. To my friends. To me. And I decided that it was _worth it_. I can’t just… change my mind like this for no good reason.”

Missy’s eyes softened a bit, less knife-sharp and more mercurial, and the Doctor breathed in relief.

“Well, dear. We never said you were much for self-control, did we?” Missy asked almost warmly. “Though trying to pick up a fight in the middle of a Cyberman field _was_ a bit surprising, even for you.”

She flushed, scratching at her neck. “Yeah. I admit that.”

They stood there in awkward silence for a while more, the Doctor staring at Missy’s face and Missy just… generally… looking back at her. Waiting.

The Doctor wasn’t sure what she deserved right now.

“I think you might have been more right than I wanted to admit,” she whispered at last, when time started to drag too much over them, the biscuit in her hands little more than crumbs by now. “I _am_ a hypocrite.”

That startled a laugh out of Missy, she was glad to see. And even got her a touch to her face, sweet and warm and terribly fleeting.

“I always knew that, Theta.” Missy murmured back, thumb rubbing tenderly at her cheek. “I’ve known _your_ flaws since we were children.”

The Doctor laughed as well, closing her eyes momentarily.

“Suppose it’s another of those… ‘two deities of chaos bringing destruction to the universe’ things you mentioned before?” She asked, staring back at Missy’s eyes again.

Missy hummed a small agreement. “I do believe it may considered so, yes.”

She sighed, trying for a small smile. “Guess it means more time apart, then?”

Missy’s lips pulled into a small smirk. “Something like that. Until we no longer risk killing each other, I believe.”

She snorted, leaning in to rest her brow against Missy’s. “Yeah. Might be for the best, I suppose.”

The kiss that followed was terribly bittersweet; fitting for the crumbs falling to the ground, for the peace slipping through her fingers.

This time, though, at least it didn’t feel like _forever_.


	27. show me how to lay my sword down (for long enough to let you through)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. So, after the fight from last chapter, the Doctor needed a bit of… her-time, so this chapter is mostly about… thinking. Though there is a scene with Yaz and a talk that should have happened long ago (which was written way after the rest of the chapter, in fact…).  
> But, hey, next chapter we’ll have an overload of sugar, so, keep the hopes up!
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters do not belong to me. Song is, once again, “Eight” by Sleeping At Last.**   
>  _(because I really, really liked the composition of “never trust you” — but I’ll try anyway. Very Thoschei-like)_

**Chapter 27**

She landed back on Earth with the wheeze of the TARDIS sounding terribly loud in her ears.

_Hope_ , she remembered the Moment telling her. The sound of hope.

It didn’t sound much like hope, right now.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair; she was being too morbid for the situation, she supposed. It wasn’t the first time she and Missy took a time; just because they were _officially_ married, it didn’t change a thing. They were still Time Lords, they would still live for _way_ too long, and it was still expected of them to… wander off, sometimes.

It was why most Time Lords were polygamous, in the first place.

She shook her head; right, no thinking further about it.

Instead, she snapped the doors open, and walked off into the fields she had parked in. The grass beneath her was the flush green of Earth’s foliage, and the air around smelled with the familiar hint of pollution and metals that were particular to 21st Century Earth.

It felt like home.

She closed her eyes, basking in the warm sunlight like a reptile and just smelling in the hint of sea in the breeze. She usually preferred colder countries, like England, but this time she had aimed lower, closer to the Equatorial Line, just to enjoy _this_. This warmth, the hint of flourishing _life_ in the greens around here.

To enjoy the distance of every single one of her past failures.

She heard him before he stepped out the TARDIS, still attuned to her surroundings in this exact moment.

“Hello, Graham.” She greeted softly before Graham could say anything. She did not open her eyes though, still leaning against the TARDIS’s wood with her face turned up to the sun.

She heard him lean against the TARDIS as well, a small thud against the wood, and smiled softly as she waited.

“Has the Master…” he trailed off. When he gathered himself again, he started over completely. “Is the Master around?”

She finally pried her eyes open, snorting lightly. “Nah. Miss has… taken her leave for the moment.” She explained, tilting her head to the side. If she looked down, she’d be able to see her hand. Her left hand. The one where she once wore River’s ring.

The one where she now wore Missy’s ring.

She smiled again, more sincerely this time. “But it’s okay.” She added, correcting herself: “It’s going to _be_ okay.”

Graham’s touch to her arm wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, she decided.

**.**

They explored; Earth’s past, teaching her friends of every single important point in History (while tactfully avoiding any Fixed Point, when possible). The other planets in the Solar system, showing them the different life systems in each planet and just how _wrong_ their scientists were to say that humans were the only life in the galaxy. Future Earth colonies, both those prospering and those that were already falling into wreckage.

She was avoiding the problem and she knew it, but her friends were kind enough to allow her to do so, so she kept going just like that. A step in front of the other, one adventure after the other, and resolutely _not thinking_ about how she missed Missy.

She might even have had a small brush with a king in one of their escapades through alien planets. It was nothing serious, and she _certainly_ did not marry _him_ , but it happened, and it might or might not have had anything to do with the fact that Missy had reminded her that the Time Lords’ distaste for sex was something completely ridiculous.

Still, she knew that she shouldn’t avoid all of it for too long, lest she stumble upon Missy without ever thinking about _why_ they took a time for themselves in the first place, and then things would simply escalate, instead of simmering back into normalcy. Which was why she was in the library, feet resting in the water as she sat by the pool, nothing on her hands but the old photograph she had found so long ago, now.

“You know,” she said for having something to say and so the silence wouldn’t drown her out. “Looking at you…” she directed her words to her past self, the flushed face staring back at her. “It’s quite ridiculous, all of this.”

She laughed, lips pulling unwillingly into a small smile. “We were in a much tougher place back then, weren’t we? Yet, we never gave up on him. We never… We even _forgave him_. When he had just tried to burn the whole planet Earth, when he had spent a _year_ cannibalizing Sexy, when he had spent a year trying to kill _Martha_ … we forgave him.”

She stared at the red mouth, at the bruises littered on his skin. “We even became his pet quite willingly, did we not?”

The photograph did not answer her back, of course. But she remembered how it was to be him; remembered the loneliness and the _love_ burning within, the need to be needed, the need to remember, the longing for _comfort_. She remembered being comfortable with being a ‘pet’, as she put it, simply because it meant the Master had been giving her the whole of his attention. She remembered being _happy_ in his hands, even when he was destroying her, even when he gave her no respect, simply because it was _meant for her and her only_.

If it had been up to him, to _her past self_ , this fight would never have happened. She would have been upset at Missy’s threats, but as long as Missy didn’t act on them, as long as Missy wasn’t _actively_ hurting one of hers, she would have never fought back, because she had been willing to put with almost _anything_ , back then.

Her… next face would likely never been here, in the first place. So lonely and so _afraid_. She had been such a coward, always _running_. Running from her fate. Running from her wife. Running from her death. Missy? She would never have even approached her, much less _married_ her.

But, in her last face, she had been more than dedicated to Missy. She had seen _hope_ in Missy, even when Missy was actively trying to kill him, and she had… she had tried her best. She had stood by Missy’s side against all her friends, and she had… well. She had even sacrificed Bill for it, hadn’t she? Bill for the chance of Missy’s redemption.

“And that’s all the problem, is it not?” She asked with a sigh.

She had been here before. She had trusted Missy before. And it had turned out to be a terrible choice, so now she was… _afraid_. Terribly afraid — of messing things even further, of killing even more of her friends, of causing _Missy’s death_ , again.

“I am being a coward again.” She muttered. She closed her eyes with a groan, thinking of the words that had accompanied her as she was born; the words that she had promised when she first chose her name, even. “ _Never be cruel, never be cowardly_ …” She recited easily, smiling despite herself.

There were more words, now she thought about it. More words about _her_ , more words that could fit _Missy_ , more words that could fit _them_.

“ _Hate is always foolish, love is always wise_ ,” she murmured. In her hands, the flushed look on her past face seemed almost… hopeful. _Content_ , she remembered feeling then. Content. She felt content with Missy. More than that, she felt _happy_ with her. Love is always wise, huh.

But… there was one other. One last bit of advice she had had carried on even after her death. The one that had shaped her into this, the one that had told her to give Missy a chance, in the first place.

“ _Always try to be nice, but never fail to be kind._ ”

Well.

Seemed like she had her answer.

**.**

Yaz found her, hours later, and they sat together by the pool, the picture heavy in the Doctor’s hands.

“You never told us about it.” Yaz said, waving vaguely in the direction of the photo.

She could distract Yaz. She could just _not answer_ , the girl would probably allow her to.

But she also felt choked up, words too many in her chest, and she… she should _try_. She had promised herself, had she not?

“I was with her.” She answered, caressing her past face softly through the photo.

Yaz kept quiet for a moment, and the Doctor appreciated it, but she also wasn’t sure she’d be able to _keep going_ , not if Yaz kept quiet. Luckily, after a while of it, Yaz took a guess. “Missy?”

The Doctor nodded, warring emotions brewing inside. “Yes. Though, she went by The Master, back then.” She grinned. “And _she_ was a _he_. Quite short, I’ll agree, but…”

“Is that a trend?” Yaz asked with wonder in her voice. “Start male and then… change?”

She thought of her first body; a womb warring in her, the ability to create life she had always hated, but still very much _male_ , and shrugged. “Not really. We don’t even do _gender_ quite like you humans do. It’s the first time I _present_ as female, in a female body, but it’s not really my first go as a woman, either. And the Master… well. We’ve been pretty much everything, by this point. And, in the end, all that changes is our body; I’m still not a woman, just as I _am_ a woman. It’s just… complicated.”

She stirred the water under her with her feet, and stared at it, instead of looking at Yaz as she continued. “But anyway; the main difference is that… the Master wasn’t… _good_. Or kind. Or even… _sane_.” She sighed. “He was… he was destructive, and he almost killed someone I cared for, and… and sometimes, that’s hard to forget.”

Yaz took a moment to parse through that. When she did, the Doctor got a slight prod to her side, and stared at Yaz’s curious eyes. “There’s so _much_ in what you just said. Okay, uh… first of all… _are_ you okay with ‘she/her’…? I just… kind of assumed, I guess…”

The Doctor laughed a little. “Oh, no, I’m fine with it. If I ever _stop_ being fine, don’t worry, I’ll tell you guys.”

Yaz nodded with a small grin. “You do that.” Then, her eyes turned more serious as she waved in the direction of the Doctor’s hands. “So… in the picture. You’re not…” She swallowed noisily, and the Doctor allowed her the moment of hesitancy. “Unhappy? Or… hurt?”

She looked at the picture again, and grinned softly. “Not at all.” The smile in her past face stared back at her, and she repeated, softly. “Not at all.”

Yaz probably deserved more than that, and the Doctor…

The Doctor found she didn’t mind it too much, hearts light at telling her friend all about… _the Master_. And their complicated relationship.

Sitting here, remembering their struggles… it’s the best she felt in days.

**.**

She did not go looking for Missy afterwards, though.

Yaz asked her, once more, as they sat in their nightly conversation, after all… _that_. It went more or less like, “You seem more relaxed.”

The Doctor had nodded, because that was true enough. “I have found an answer. Because of you; thanks for that.” She had added, before continuing on to the answer. “Me and Missy…” She had shrugged then, but she had been grinning too, she remembered. “We’ll always keep trying. Not for each other, but for ourselves.”

“You _will_ come back together, then?” Yaz had asked, because that seemed to be human nature. If you were together with someone, it was only natural for you to be actually _together_. Even if Yaz _was_ a bit better at it than others, after all their talks.

The Doctor, however, was no human, and she had centuries to live still, and she knew the virtue of patience, and had simply said, “In due time.”

She had meant that, too. She still meant it.

She wouldn’t go looking for Missy. If they stumbled upon each other, then that was that. If Missy called her, she would certainly go running, and if she thought she had an immediate need, she wouldn’t hesitate to call, either.

But there was no need to go _looking_ for Missy.

Instead, she just let the defences around her mind fall, and hoped that, one day soon, the sound in her mind would be that of four hearts once again.


	28. sweeter than heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end... I mean, the story was already complete when I started posting it, but it still feels so... weird to know that soon I won't have anything to update. Wow...  
> Anyway, to the chapter. Like I mentioned before (kind-of), this chapter is the fluffiest, more romantic shit I’ve ever written in my whole life. Be warned to the bomb of sugar, dears, because I tried to mix several clichés together in a same scene and it _shows_.  
> (I even asked my best friend to help me think of "romantic clichés" and "the most cliché of all kisses"... I think I managed to reach my aim!)
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. Song is, once again, “Drumming Song” by Florence + the Machine.**   
>  _(reminder: this is a “sweeter than heaven” chapter, because I wanted to write something utterly fluffy and romantic and possibly sick-inducing)_

**Chapter 28**

It took her two weeks. It might have been more for Missy, for all she knew, but, to the Doctor, it was two weeks; two weeks of carefully allowing her thoughts to roam freely in the space between them, the space that felt awfully empty; two weeks of a bond that hummed longingly for _moremoremore_ , sparks of fire igniting and dying with every breath.

Two weeks. Two weeks travelling with her friends, saving the Earth and seeing the galaxy, before she felt… a spark. Their embers coming back to life.

The grin that had born in her face had nothing to do with the running or chasing she was partaking in, this time, despite what Yaz commented on — her voice chiding as she told the Doctor off for grinning when she was _threatening someone_.

No; it came from the excited heartsbeat in the back of her mind that did not come from her own chest.

**.**

She stretched lazily, the last remnants of sleep still clinging to her frame as she made her way into the console room.

It was strangely late in the morning, for one, and Yaz was already there, sipping at a cup of coffee against the closed doors of the TARDIS.

“Hello.” Yaz waved in her direction as she stepped in. The Doctor waved back, beaming happily at her. “You up late. Spent the night awake staring at the stars?”

Shaking her head with a hum, the Doctor waved Yaz closer. “Nah, was reading. Finished the series of _H’aren’mian_. It’s very good, if you have any interest in fantastical Venusian tales.”

Yaz hummed thoughtfully, stopping by her side. “How many books are there in the series?”

_Past or future?_ The Doctor shrugged, spinning the dial of time randomly; Sexy would take her wherever, either way. “Oh, just 15, but I wanted to enjoy the reading, so I took my time, instead of just speed-reading through it. Could have finished quicker, but, well, you know.”

She saw Yaz shake her head in her peripheral view and pouted a bit. She preferred when Yaz asked _questions_ , c’mon.

Still, well. She might leave her to it; actually, since she was just thinking of hitting the Randomizer and getting rid of all this ‘thinking’ thing, she guessed she was just in the same mood.

Before, though…

“Hey, Yaz,” she called. A bittersweet nostalgia shaped her next words before she even thought about it, but they left her with the same grin as always, “Everything that ever was and ever will be. Where do you wanna start?”

As always, the answer was a beautiful grin and eyes full of life, and she remembered why she had always left the first choice for her friends.

“Away. Far, _far_ away from here!”

**.**

The snow was glittering gold under their feet, the air smelled crisply sweet, and the rain fell in a soft shower that seemed to be petering off, and the planet was the most beautiful one she had ever taken Ryan, Yaz and Graham, she was almost sure.

“Wow,” murmured Yaz softly by her elbow, looking around slowly. “You certainly… surprised me. It’s… it’s _beautiful_ , Doctor.”

The Doctor beamed proudly at her friend, patting her on the back — soft, soft velvet, she was almost sure Bill had once wore this coat; the Doctor loved it, and it fell perfectly on Yaz —, before turning to Ryan and Graham on the other side.

“C’mon, fam! There’s a festival going on down…” she looked around, smelling the air again. “ _There_ ,” she pointed towards the direction the wind was blowing from. Always trust one’s nose, the Doctor had discovered. Well… _almost_ always, anyway.

They walked, discussing random things — the Doctor got into a slightly long-winded explanation of the planet (nine moons, seven suns, no oceans but a couple lakes here and there, yes the snow _is_ gold, no the rain is _not_ gold but pink; the rain is sweet though if you want to taste it; the festival? Ah the festival was a yearly thing to celebrate the turn of the season), while pointing out the interesting things to her friends. She had parked out of the way, up on top of a small hill of the festival town, and it was easy to see flora and fauna as they trekked their way down, and it was _beautiful_.

And best of all, the Doctor had never been here before in her lives.

“Is there any special reason we’re here?” Asked Ryan at one point, interrupting her. “Not that I’m _complaining_ , it’s nice and we don’t have to run yet, so… It’s just. Not your usual haunts?”

She sniffed, tossing her hair back (and holding her hat back in place when it started sliding off her head… though her friends certainly tossed her a slight grin when she almost lost it. Traitors). “That’s _rude_ , Ryan. I like pretty, calm places too!”

“Sorry, Doc, but you _really_ don’t,” Graham said, patting Ryan on the shoulder. “You’re more of a… running-around-in-trouble kind of person.”

“For that, I’m taking us directly into a trap next,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Ryan laughed. The Doctor grinned happily at the sound of it (and a _bit_ at the stumble he took, maybe). “But, seriously, mate. Is there?”

“Well,” she shrugged. “Yaz wanted somewhere ‘far, far away’, I wanted somewhere cold, the TARDIS said ‘future’, and.” She shrugged again, nose twitching as she smelled something… familiar in the air.

Smoky, spicy, _buzzing_. Electricity and ozone and _power_ and home.

She prodded lightly at the embers in her head, sending through an image of the town they were almost in, and hoped for the best.

“And, anyway, I’ve never been here before!” She added, turning to her friends with a grin. “So, only fair!”

They laughed, and she let herself relax. The planet smelled honey-sweet and _happy_ , future and calm, and she swayed quietly to the drumming song that came from within her and the melody of bells that echoed from the festival before her.

“C’mon, fam!” She called, speeding up, giddy happiness brewing within. “We have a festival to see!”

**.**

“Festival food is the _best_ ,” she groaned pleased, licking her fingers of the last few drops of sauce that had escaped her honeyed-bun. “So! What do you wanna do now, fam?”

“Sleep for a _century_ ,” said Graham, groaning loudly. “It’s… really fun, I’ll admit, Doc, but I’m not as young as I used to be. We spent the whole day here, now, and I’m _tired_.”

Looking up at the sky, she realized he was right. It _had_ been a whole day. All seven suns had set by now, and the eighth moon was rising on the north as she watched.

“Well.” She blinked, biting her lower lip lightly. “We’ve been here longer than I expected.” And nothing, still. Well, she had learned long ago not to keep her hopes too high, at least. “Sure, let’s go. We all agreed, fam?”

“Uh, sure, yeah, fine with me.” Ryan agreed, yawning a bit. “Can we just pass by the BBQ again on the way out? Wanna grab some more chicken.”

Yaz snorted lightly but offered no complaint, so the Doctor agreed easily, leading them back the way they had come some time ago. The festival was dying out by now, people leaving with their winnings and chatting lazily between each other. How did she not realize the day was ending, she didn’t know.

“Well, here we go!” She said with a grin, gesturing to the BBQ tent that Ryan had taken a shine to. “You remember how to pay for it?”

“Yeah, yeah, mate.” Ryan laughed. “You guys want anything?”

After a round of “no, thanks”, Ryan left them to buy his food, while the Doctor took a step back to keep an eye out. Nothing had happened the whole day they had been in the festival and, while that was not something _impossible_ , that wasn’t quite _common_ either. She preferred to remain alert just to be on the safe side, especially considering her friends _were_ tired.

No threat came in their direction, thankfully.

Something else did, though. Something she had spent the whole day waiting for.

“You guys go on ahead to the TARDIS.” She said to Graham and Yaz, looking around as she tried to pinpoint where, exactly, was the prickling feeling coming from. “I have… something to do.”

“Something?” Graham asked, concerned, but she waved him off, relying on her nose to at least discern the distance between them at the moment.

“Doctor?” Yaz added, just as concerned sounding.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. Nothing dangerous, I promise.” She answered, turning to look at them at last. She grinned at them, shrugging easily. “I don’t know how long it’ll take, though. Might want to go to sleep before I arrive.”

“Doctor?”

She waved a hand, stepping away, before she remembered they might need a key to enter the TARDIS. She returned, fishing one from the inner pocket of her coat.

“Right, here!” She looked between them, and delivered it to Graham for safekeeping. “I’ll give each of you one, later. It’s a bit of a special thing. Or used to be. Don’t know, anymore. But, anyway, I guess I forgot about it, sorry. So, here, a key for you three to get into the TARDIS in case she doesn’t open when you ask.” She thought for a moment longer and nodded; that should be everything. “Ok, then. Bye, now!”

She less bounced away than ran, weaving between people and shouting excuses to anyone who’d listen. Her hearts thrummed in her chest, a string pulling her along as she ran trusting her instincts and nose.

She stopped — or rather, was stopped — with a hand across her chest, spinning her around into a cooler chest.

“Hello there,” murmured a warm voice in her ear. “Fancy seeing you here, Doctor.”

The Doctor stepped back with a large grin on her face, a hand clenched tightly around the cool waist, and leaned up to kiss the smirk out of Missy’s face.

_:You arse,:_ she thought fondly. _:I’ve been waiting for you the whole day.:_

Missy laughed into her mouth and her mind, easily pulling back from the Doctor’s touch. “Why, dear, if I knew you were _this_ impatient, I’d have come earlier.”

The Doctor rolled her eyes, grin persisting through her mock annoyance. “Idiot. C’mon. You seen the festival yet?”

Missy raised an eyebrow in response to that, amusement roiling out of her. “You asking me on a date, Doctor?”

“Of course, _darling_ ,” she murmured back, lips twitching even further. “When am I not?”

Missy laughed cheerfully at that, a beautiful, free sound, and the Doctor revered in it.

**.**

They roamed the dying festival, enjoying the attractions that lasted in the night. They ate sweets, shared drinks, challenged each other in every single game still there, even pulled a couple pranks on some of the aliens who hadn’t gone home yet (Missy had wanted to kill a couple of them, so the Doctor thought that pranking them was entirely fair of an exchange).

It was nearing midnight when the Doctor realized they had roamed too far, wandering away from the festival and the town and into the nearest lake. All nine moons were up in the sky, as were several stars, and the gold snow at their feet made the whole place seem entirely too ethereal for a moment, bathed in the night light with the scent of sweets and happiness in the air, and with a cold breeze whipping their coats around their legs, especially with the cold lake spreading before them.

It was all too beautiful; gold and burnt orange (the waters of this planet were _strange_ ; it was utterly charming), night blue and black, silver light, and cold. It reminded her of home — not Gallifrey, but the TARDIS and the universe. It reminded her of everything she loved. Especially with Missy by her side, holding her hand, _smelling_ of home and time and space.

Such was the beauty and perfection of the place, the Doctor could no more resist the pull of the bond in between them than she could resist when Missy pulled her along, following a song that brewed in them and echoed lightly from the town in the distance.

This dance was nothing like their usual dances — there were no thrill-seeking spins or dips; instead, it was a slow dance, their bodies so close the cold wind barely bothered them, their smells mingling easily.

“You’re being terribly romantic today,” the Doctor murmured as they stepped easily into another dance, ignoring the light drizzle that was starting over them — light, cold and sweet, pinkish drops running through their hair and clothes.

Missy tilted her head with a small grin, eyes alight with warmth and devotion that she didn’t usually let bleed through, and the Doctor shivered lightly, leaning her head closer, drawn to it. “Don’t you like it?”

The Doctor needed a moment to think about the question before she answered, as sincerely as she could. “I love it. But I fear it’s all just my hearts playing me. Just… _hope_. When everything is just…”

Missy’s sigh hit her face soft, warm and sweet, smelling of the tea they had shared in the festival, and the Doctor closed her eyes for a moment, not wanting to see Missy’s expression to that.

“Oh, Doctor…”

At least, Missy’s voice was very… fond?

The Doctor opened her eyes, and Missy was _right there_ , pink droplets of rain sliding down her face and clinging stubbornly to the tips of her eyelashes, eyes a tantalizing mix of silver-gold and time-space and fire-ice.

“If it’s your hearts playing you,” Missy murmured, voice thick and terribly familiar. “Then mine are playing the same.”

As Missy leaned to kiss her, the Doctor heard a blast — loud, disruptive and bothersome. Just like Missy.

And, just like Missy, utterly _beautiful_ in its end result, the Doctor thought with a smile as fireworks blew up on the sky, brilliant and colourful and in several shapes, falling over them like falling stars that burst into brilliant sparks wherever they touched.

The Doctor laughed, closing her eyes into the touch of Missy’s hand in her face and Missy’s lips over hers, letting herself be drawn away into a kiss of slow dancing and fireworks and sweet rain.

Like Missy. Like herself.

Like them.


	29. infinite as the universe we hold inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I think I could have ended here, except I love the next chapter, so. Have the first part of the wrap-up (or, you know, if you prefer: have the last chapter and think of the next one as an Epilogue. Certainly _fits_ ). I tried to fix things that were left forgotten (aka, first chapter), but some things will continue being… out in the open. Sorry about that.  
> Still… well. At least it’s a very happy chapter. With much intimacy (though nothing higher than a T), because they needed some time to just sit down and be.
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. Song is “Sun” by Sleeping At Last.**   
>  _(this part of the lyrics was chosen simply because I really, really loved it; and because I thought it fit the two idiots, despite not particularly fitting **this** chapter, as it is)_

**Chapter 29**

The song of the TARDIS was the only sound around her as she sat by the unlit fireplace. Not even the sound of passing pages accompanied it, the book in her lap long forgotten as she stared at the blank ceiling above the sofa she was laying on.

The Doctor’s hearts were still set on Missy, walking away in the light of the night, a smirk on her red lips and a sway to her hips. She had thought Missy would come back to her TARDIS with her, but no, Missy said she’d come back “in two days” instead. Not _now_. Whatever the reasons for that.

Oh well. At least this time the Doctor had a day; her hopes weren’t _entirely_ unfounded this way, were they? But still, she needed something to do _now_ , something to distract her from thoughts about their date and not-date, and something to waste her time with while waiting for her friends to wake.

An image flashed in her mind, projected helpfully by the TARDIS, and she grinned, leaning further back.

Yes, well; that looked like something worthwhile, didn’t it?

It was almost funny, thinking back on it. It had all started because of this, hadn’t it? She had been living her life quite well ignoring all the shit that had happened — until the picture. Until _that_ picture.

She still had it, kept it in her room now, even; locked in the same drawer she kept the pictures of River and Susan and Rose (and the small reminder of Romana). Now, it belonged to Susan, Rose, River, Romana and _Koschei_. The people she had loved the most. The people she had loved and lost. The people she had once considered _family_.

(Amy and Rory had whole albums, because Amy loved photos and Rory loved complying with Amy’s desire, and the Doctor… the Doctor _loved them_ , and they had been the closest thing to _parents_ she had had in _centuries_ , but… but she reserved _them_ for something different. She had lost them, yes, but it hadn’t been quite as…)

And the one she had found again, in the miraculous case of Koschei, who was apparently unable to ever die.

(That made her gladder than she thought she should feel. But then, she _was_ known for her bad decisions, wasn’t she?)

The box was easy to find; Sexy had never intended to hide it from _her_ , after all, just Yaz and Ryan as they searched the library for “something interesting”. To the Doctor, it was like a beacon, shining bright on the edge of her senses — just as dull and cardboardy as before.

It fell open under her hands with laughable ease, piles of albums staring up at her from within. Albums she had gathered with each one of her friends, and albums from back on _Gallifrey_. Those were… rarer, since art in Gallifrey was just so _different_ , but there were some, too, the Doctor knew.

Pictures from back on Gallifrey. Black and white and interdimensional pictures of her first self and her family. Of the fields she would never return to. Of the house that never felt _quite_ like home. Of the Academy, proud in the distance. Of those she’d once called her friends. Of children, playing on the streets.

Of Koschei, in those small moments the Doctor had been allowed to have them, pliant and gentle by her side.

She took the best pictures; she just wanted pictures of Koschei, for any picture of Gallifrey was always too _painful_ to deal with, but Koschei… Koschei was starting to become one of the few things from back then that made her _happy_ , instead of bitter.

She made her pile — pictures and pictures of Koschei; studying, sleeping, engineering some dangerous Thing, being so beautifully _clever_ —, and was ready to close the box when her sight caught on another book.

A much more recent one, at that.

“Oh, Nardole.” She laughed, raising it with tender hands. “I didn’t deserve you.”

The book was less than a century old. Bright blue, close to the shade of blue of her TARDIS, and looked absolutely _beautiful_. It reminded her so much of River’s diary it hurt, but it was a good hurt.

She guarded the box with a smile, but kept the book with her, kept perfectly safe in her pockets, along with all the pictures of Koschei she had saved to keep in her bedroom. She was done with the box, but it seemed like she wasn’t quite done with her collection just yet.

**.**

Sunrise (or the TARDIS equivalent of it), her friends awakening, and a disturbing help request in 21st Century London coming from Kate kept the Doctor busy for longer than she’d expected.

In fact, long enough for her to be pleasantly surprised when she stepped back inside her TARDIS and found Missy there, lounging lazily on a chair she was almost sure had not been on the console room just a day before.

“Oh, _finally_ , dear! I was starting to fear you were trying to escape me!”

The Doctor gaped for a moment, blinking slowly as her hearts thrummed with the sense of homecoming and her friends greeted Missy familiarly, as if she had stepped out for a drink, and not been banished after a fight. She loved her friends.

“It’s been two days already?” She asked weakly to no one in particular. She would have _sworn_ it had been a day. A day and a half at _most_.

Missy waved a hand lazily, heels clicking loudly as she swung her legs back to the ground. “Of course not, dear. I simply managed to wrap things up quicker than I expected.” She smiled, teasingly and charming but with just an edge of danger. “Why, don’t you want me here?”

She was quick to shake her head. “Of course I want you here, idiot!” The smile blossomed on her face easily as she snapped the doors closed at her back. “I’m just surprised. Is all.”

“She might have also just spent a couple minutes protecting your name from UNIT.” Graham said with a grin, brushing past them to the interior of the TARDIS. “I think she’s embarrassed.”

“Shush you, Graham!” She said automatically, scrunching her face up. “I’m not _embarrassed_. I was just telling Kate that she shouldn’t shoot Missy on sight anymore.”

“Yeah, what was that?” Ryan asked, looking between the Doctor and Missy with curious eyes. “She seemed pretty vehement that you had not ‘changed’, whatever that means.”

Missy smirked, leaning forward as if she were telling a secret. “Oh, didn’t the Doctor tell you? I’m a psychopath. Mass murderer, even. Tried to burn Earth a couple times and everything. Last time I did it, it was as a gift for our dear Doctor!”

Yaz, who’d been following Graham out and was the only one who _knew_ about Missy’s past, stopped and turned around. “Burn the Earth.” The Doctor heard the subtle prod of ‘ _it’s a bit worse than you said’_ in the look Yaz tossed her direction, and shrugged with an embarrassed grin.

Missy hummed in agreement, nodding wisely. “Oh yes. Even succeeded, once.”

“ _Can_ that be considered a success?” The Doctor muttered back, shaking her head. “And, anyway, like I _told Kate_ , she’s reformed! She’s a _reformed_ psychopath, okay? Don’t worry about it!”

Missy bowed mockingly at them. “Of _course_ , dear.” She demurred in what the Doctor was pretty sure was supposed to be a ‘cute and innocent’ way. “Whatever you say, _dear_.”

The Doctor huffed, but she was more amused than anything. Oh, sure, she knew perfectly well that Missy still acted like a git from time to time, and that she was always too _trigger-happy_ , but the Doctor was also sure she at least _wanted_ to change. To be _better_.

For herself, as she’d said. Not for the Doctor. Not for their promise. Just for herself.

And with Koschei, that was always a better reasoning than any other.

“Leave them alone, Miss.” She said laughing. “Go on, fam. You were complaining you were sleepy, weren’t you?”

At least, Ryan and Yaz could take a hint. They scampered off quickly enough, saying cheerful ‘goodnights’ to them as they went.

Alone at last, the Doctor went to Missy, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

“I missed you,” she admitted easily, grinning in Missy’s face.

Missy laughed, falling back into Gallifreyan easily now she didn’t have to be understood by humans. “Oh, dear, whatever should I do to make it up for you?”

The Doctor’s grin back was another thing she had learned from Koschei, all those years back. “Oh, you know, I’m sure you’ll think of _something_ …”

(She did)

**.**

They sat in bed together, hand in hand and heads layered over each other’s as they stared up at the sky swirling above them.

Or at least, that’s what the Doctor thought they were watching, but instead, Missy said, humming. “Those are new,” and she pointed at the Doctor’s dresser.

The Doctor blinked. Looking at where Missy pointed, the Doctor realized that she had forgotten the new pictures over the dresser, instead of putting them away in the drawer she had separated for them.

“Oh. Yeah.” She agreed listlessly. “Was looking at some old things the other night. Found them, instead.”

Missy brightened up beneath her, pulling away carefully and leaving the Doctor to huff as her head knocked on the bed headrest instead.

“Meanie,” she complained as Missy walked to the dresser, fingering her hair lazily to push it away from her face. “Come back here, Miss.”

Missy hummed noncommittally, taking up the pile of pictures in her hands. And the book beneath.

“It’s…” Missy paused, grinning softly. “It’s us.”

The Doctor shrugged helplessly. “Mostly you, actually.”

Missy turned to look at her, eyes soft and happy as her lips pulled into a fond smile. “Me. I didn’t know you cared _that_ much, Thete.”

Giving up on cuddling, the Doctor crawled to the edge of the bed, trying to pull Missy closer so they could see the photos together, at least. “Yes, well, Kosch. You’ve always been _it_ , haven’t you?”

Missy laughed, allowing herself to be pulled. She sat by the Doctor’s side, spreading the photos on their laps with care.

The pictures did Koschei no justice, no matter how good they were. All of them lacked the light from Koschei’s eyes, the gleam of knowledge and time that had always belonged there. Instead, it was just like watching…

Well. A cut of time. Koschei held still and _dull_.

Theta, when she saw herself, held _motionless_.

Things that simply didn’t _suit them_.

Still, it was fun to finger through them for a while, pointing out places they remembered, places they had loved in their infancy.

“Oh, and the _robes,_ ” Koschei laughed in her throat, looking down at one where Theta was actually _dressed like a Time Lord_. It was absolutely ridiculous. “I certainly don’t miss that.”

The Doctor grinned softly. “Neither do I.”

They didn’t talk of what they _did_ miss. They might heal together and they might trust each other again, but Gallifrey… Gallifrey was always the thing that should not be spoken about. Whether it had burned to the ground or not.

At some point, they finished the photos the Doctor had taken for herself, and Koschei raised the blue book instead. “And this?”

“Nardole put it together.” She admitted, caressing it fondly. “It’s likely it has some… some pictures of River, too. Of Darillium.”

Sorrow burned in her hearts, but it was tamed. Diluted. She’d never _not_ regret it, having to say her goodbyes to her wife, but she’d also learned to look at it and see the good things about it. See the love, and the 24 years she had spent _with River_ , and all the happiness they had shared.

Perhaps, at one point, she’d even learn to appreciate the fleetingness of it all.

“I _am_ sorry you lost her.” Koschei murmured, sounding remarkably sincere, both in her voice and her mind. “I know you loved her. Your River Song.”

Her breath hitched a bit as she tried not to start crying again, and she nodded minutely. “Yes. Yes, I did.” She smiled wryly. “I still do, really.”

“Oh, I know.” Koschei agreed easily. “You’ll likely always love her. Just like you loved your Bossy Girlie, and the girl I heard about — Bad Wolf?”

The honesty and utter lack of resentment in Koschei’s voice startled the Doctor enough for her to pull back a bit, looking at her wife and childhood friend with new eyes.

“Oh, Theta.” Koschei murmured with soft eyes, staring right back at her. “I’ve always known you are ridiculously in love with _everyone_. I bet you are in love with your Yasmin even now.” Koschei shrugged. “It’s just who you are, dear. If you were anyway else, I’d likely not love you as much, myself.”

The Doctor smiled, hearts warm and touched, and leaned in for a kiss. “ _Thank you,_ ” she murmured sincerely against Koschei’s lips.

Koschei smiled back, kissing her passionately. “Always.”

**.**

They spent the night looking through Nardole’s album.

It was full of pictures — yes, there were some of River and the Doctor in Darillium, and it made her hearts clench painfully and soar happily; there were also many of the Doctor lecturing or in his office, and of Bill, and, just as importantly, of the Vault. The Vault, with Missy. And with the Doctor trying to “teach her to be good”.

Nardole was a _great_ photographer, the Doctor discovered. Must be a perk of having been part-blackmailer and part-android.

Still, it lacked the touch of intimacy the Doctor had shared with the Master once, in the Year That Never Was, and she and Missy took joy in recreating just between them.

By the end of the night, the book looked entirely new — less an album and more of a journal full of photos. It was covered from cover to cover by their handwriting, graceful circles taking over each other easily. Looking at these words, at the handwriting that never, _ever_ changed, the Doctor remembered sharply the words she had so intently ignored when she first took the One Picture, so many months ago, and smiled lightly.

Back then, she’d been afraid of it. Of seeing them, of _reading_ them, of… remembering. The love they’d had, even when they had absolutely hated each other.

Now, she couldn’t look away, taking in each minute emotion in it, the whole spectrum of love and devotion and hate and fear and _kindness_. Of being complete opposites and the very same, all at once.

It was terribly fulfilling.

**.**

“You looking happy this morning, Doctor.” Yaz said as the Doctor entered the kitchen come morning, Missy still busy in the shower.

“Yeah. I am.” The Doctor agreed, beaming happily at her friend. Oh, she _was_ beautiful. So kind, so curious, so _brilliant_.

If Missy weren’t here… maybe she’d be right.

“That’s good.” Yaz smiled softly. “Then, I guess the Master will be staying for a while?”

The Doctor hummed, prodding lightly at the bond between them.

_:Oh, Thete. You still need ask?:_ she got in response. _:This time, I refuse to let you go when you get slightly angry. If we’re making this work, we’ll have to push through that, too.:_

“Yes. Yes, she is.” She agreed even happier, shaking with giddiness.

_:Are you willing to work with my friends too?:_ She asked back, not daring hope, except she _was_. She was hoping like crazy. _:Without threatening them at every corner?:_

“I guess we’ll be seeing her more, then?”

She got the impression of fond laughter, and knew she had won even before she got her answer. _:Oh, if you **must**.:_

“Yes. Yes, you will.” She beamed proudly.

She wasn’t even scared, this time: this was everything she had ever wanted.


	30. you were in the darkness too (so i stayed in the darkness with you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Day of the Master

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo… last chapter. Holy shit, I took longer posting this story than I took to write it. (Almost a _month_ more. Did I mention already how shocked I am about how quickly I wrote this?)  
> I’m also utterly shocked at the response I got. I honestly had no idea it’d be so well-received, and, let me say it here: I’m so, so thankful for it. I wasn’t even sure I should post this story, originally, but then I thought, ‘well, it’s already written; what’s the worst that could happen?’, and you all… all the kudos, the bookmarks, the _comments_ … I honestly expected nothing of it, but I don’t regret a moment of this story or of posting it, after all this. Thank you so much.  
> Special thanks to _Tolazytocomeupwithaname_ for the comments you left unerringly in pretty much every chapter from chapter 2 onwards. And, of course, to every other person who left a comment along the way (including a couple anons, like the lovely _Lua_ ). And to everyone left a kudo. Or bookmarked this story. Or subscribed to it… Well, I think you understood. I’m just really grateful for everyone who read it.  
> Well! Moving on before I start crying…  
> From the moment I properly named this chapter, I decided I really wanted to tell you guys the working title of it from when I was writing, because it was ridiculous but I think it fits the chapter well. So, here it is: “ **The Day of the Master** ”, as I called this chapter very fondly (and as I put in the ch summary bc _yes_ ). Our last chapter (slash Epilogue). Damn. Hope you all enjoy this wrap-up.
> 
> **Disclaimer: Doctor Who and characters are not mine. The song used is “Cosmic Love” by Florence + the Machine.**  
>  _(maybe this is one of the most related song-to-chapter in all story… so, yeah, what I’m saying is, you should listen to it while reading. I feel like it really, really fits the mood, this time._  
>  After all: “I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map / And knew that somehow I could find my way back / Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too / So I stayed in the darkness with you”)

**Chapter 30**

The Doctor felt terribly unsettled for a while now, _again_. Oh, she was having her adventures, she was still damn _happy_ with Missy there with her, she was still so _proud_ Missy had been getting better, she was… thankful that things were going well.

And she was also _restless_. A different restless. The kind of restless that had once made her start a fight with Missy, that had made her go rogue on her own back in Gallifrey, that had made her… do so many stupid decisions it wasn’t even _funny_.

Instead of doing _that_ , she ended up doing what she always did when nothing suited her and she was trying to behave — she went under the TARDIS and started messing with the loose wires and just _hoped for the best_.

She was elbow deep into one of her latest experiments (or maintenance sessions, sometimes it was hard to differentiate between them), face covered with her goggles and on her usual Work Clothes, likely looking like a _proper mess_ , when she felt Missy nearby.

Except, when she obeyed a very direct but somewhat surprising order to _drop it and get up_ , she realized it was less _Missy_ and more _Master_ — it was still Missy’s face, of course, still the same face she had married, the same face that had been travelling with her for the past couple months, but her whole _countenance_ was much more… _Master_.

It was frightening, for one small moment; especially when the Master continued sprouting orders — even though she never did anything when the Doctor took a while obeying them, still dazed and lost in her own mind. But then, the Master smiled; a small thing, barely perceptible, nothing alike the smiles Koschei or even Missy tended to offer her, but the Doctor still _knew_. Seeing it, she knew.

This was the Master, yes, and they were much more… well, they were _the Master_ , and all that entailed.

But they were _her_ Master, and that _also_ came with a set of specifics that didn’t use to be there, before.

**.**

Hours later, when she was almost drooping off into sleep, the Doctor remembered the question that had happened to her that morning.

“What _did_ bring this on?” She murmured, rolling into the Master’s side with a ginormous effort.

The Master’s fingers scratched at her nape, pulling at her hair lightly. She hummed in satisfaction, nuzzling closer. Her eyes were heavy, and it was hard to keep her whole attention on anything not the scratching in her skin, but she tried, anyway.

“I could feel your restlessness all the way on the other side of the TARDIS.” The Master said simply. Their hands fell still, resting on the Doctor’s neck and upper back like a brand. “I thought this might settle you down.”

_What._ “Huh.” She blinked — struggling to reopen her eyes afterwards. “F’ me?”

The caress returned, and she allowed her eyes to fall shut, just enjoying it. “Of course, dear Doctor. You are mine, and I take care of what is mine.”

The Doctor smiled, breathing easily again. It was too much effort to open her mouth to speak, so she just projected and hoped it turned out intelligible.

_:Thanks.:_

**.**

The next few days, the Doctor felt much more settled, much to Missy’s pleased smugness. She still had some moments of restlessness at times, yes, but it was easier to ignore, between her travelling and adventuring with her fam and Missy; and when it became too much, when she ‘started to project it’, as it were, the Master would come for her, again.

It wasn’t the only thing that helped, of course. But, it helped them both, and it was _fun_ , besides, so why not indulge in it when no one else was in danger for it? The Doctor had certainly indulged the Master in worse things before and allowed others to pay for her own choices then. This time, well; it helped with her restlessness, it helped to settle the Master, and the Earth was entirely secure, for one.

As was all the other planets they still had their adventures on; some ended up destroyed here and there, of course, but entirely on accident, and the Doctor only had to talk the Master down from killing aliens who had done nothing to deserve it (in her opinion, at least. The Master certainly offered her _many_ reasons; nothing enough for _murder_ , but the Doctor allowed her _some_ kind of revenge, anyway) three times while at it, and they even helped stop two time-travelling time-meddling aliens as well.

All in all, the Doctor thought these were some productive couple days — weeks, even. Sexy was up to day in her maintenance, there was nothing needing immediate repair or assistance, the relationship between her and the Master was _good_ , and the Master was… well, _tame_ was too strong a word for a feral wolf.

The Doctor hadn’t thought she’d ever trust the _Master_ enough to show them her throat while she slept, not after everything they’d done ( _to her friends, even. Not after their last **fight**_ ), but perhaps she had been mistaken. It happened, sometimes.

“Come, Theta,” murmured Missy on her throat, soft and sweet and terribly loving against the bruises she had left there just the day before when they had been more Master than Missy and their hand had been tight around the Doctor’s skin. “Focus on _me_.”

She moaned softly, allowing her head to tilt back and give Missy more space to claim her mouth as she desired, putting up no struggle when sharp fingernails pressed into her hands, locking them at the Doctor’s sides.

“That’s right, dear hearts.” Missy continued, staring her in the eyes as she rested her brow against the Doctor’s, their breaths mingling warmly. “Just stop thinking for a moment. Allow your mind some rest.”

Four beats banged loudly in the Doctor’s mind. The drumbeats of war. The drumming of their song. The end of her song.

_Koschei. Master. Missy._

She smiled and closed her eyes, allowing the sound to flow into her, to focus just on the feeling of Missy’s hands on her and Missy’s mind against hers, buzzing lazily with every thought she made no move to hide.

She did not feel particularly restless, today — but she could still feel an anxiety burning within, a _craving_ for destruction, to take something in her hands and tear it apart just to build it back up, and she knew exactly where it came from, and she was content to realize that Missy was finally allowing her to see it when she needed something of her own, as well.

“It’s alright, Master,” she murmured, allowing herself to relax in Missy’s hands and trusting her to know exactly when to stop, even though mere weeks ago she would have run away (no that was untrue. Weeks ago, she would have claimed Missy to be failing her _goodness_ , again. To be trying to become a… monster. And she’d run away, and Missy would leave her, and they would likely think that was for the best. Oh, how did things _change_ ). “I trust you.”

She felt a kiss linger on her lips, persistent but more thankful than passionate, and when she opened her eyes, the golden affection was dulled in those grey eyes.

A feral wolf was never tamed. And, well, perhaps that was fine. A wanderer never rested, either.

They could be sharp together. They could sate each other with their own desires.

They could wander and break and rule together.

And they could _try_ together.

As long as they _remained_ together, or, more importantly, as long as they _fell back into each other_ even when they parted for time alone, the Doctor was learning there was nothing they couldn’t quite do. The last two Time Lords. The two renegades. The two geniuses. The two _failures_.

Perhaps they were made for each other, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, the beginning notes were huge (again). So. Thank you all. Honestly. _Thank you_. I loved every single comment left in this story, I grinned at every bookmark, and the kudos were _lovely_.  
> Oh yeah, found the link of the prompter I was using at first! [Here you go!](https://arts.homedecors.website/art-challenges-drawthatshitt-there-you-go-draw-your-otp-and/)
> 
> By this point, there's not much I can say anymore, so... thank you for sticking with me to the end. I hope you all enjoyed the ride, lovelies. Have my heart as a last gift! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

**Author's Note:**

> Repeating, 'cuz my Beginning Notes were giant: this story is COMPLETE, and will be updated EVERY OTHER DAY, because I want to finish posting this as soon as possible and my classes are coming back. Might have some slight delay (or, well, I might post in advance...) every now and then, but it will certainly _not_ enter in hiatus!
> 
> I'll be adding the tags as I remember things, so, if you think/see something that you think should go into the tags, please, say so and I'll add them?
> 
> (Trying to find a better summary. It's a work in progress, unfortunately. Always hated summaries.)


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